Passage to St Kitts
by Katherine Dark
Summary: Will and Elizabeth take ship on the Black Pearl headed for St. Kitts. However, their voyage is interrupted when Captain Sparrow and the Pearl rescues the survivors of the HMS Defender, which has been sunk by a Spanish vessel.
1. Default Chapter

Passage to St. Kitts  
  
Chapter 1  
  
Disclaimer - These characters do not belong to me, and I am not making any money at this.  
  
**Author's Note** This story is a sequel to my earlier story, Show Me the Horizon. It's darker in spots than the previous one, prompting the R rating. Please let me know how you like it!  
  
Will stepped into his blacksmith's shop and shut the door behind him with a sigh of relief. "Good morning to you, Mr. Turner." Drawled a voice from inside.  
  
Will's head snapped around, but he relaxed again almost instantly. "Jack! I'd heard your ship came in last night, but I was at a party at Lord Smithfield's house and couldn't come down."  
  
Jack and Will exchanged a rough, masculine hug and stepped back. "A party at Lord Smithfield's? Aren't you getting fancy? And look at that rig you're wearing? My, my!"  
  
Will flushed and started unbuttoning the fine, gold laced blue coat he was wearing. "My father-in-law insists that I dress 'appropriately'. Unfortunately, his idea of appropriate and mine differ a bit. I mean, for God's sake, I'm a blacksmith! I can't wear this sort of thing when I'm working." He stripped off the coat and hung it in a corner of the shop, then started unbuttoning the waistcoat. "But it saves time to give in, and then change when I get here."  
  
Jack settled back in a chair. "So how is your esteemed father-in-law?"  
  
Will rolled his eyes. "I'm seriously considering moving to one of the other islands. He's driving me crazy. If I'm lucky I can slip out of the house before he gets up, but he's an early riser, unfortunately."  
  
Jack chuckled unsympathetically. "And Elizabeth?"  
  
Will hung up the waistcoat next to the frock coat and stripped the fine linen shirt off over his head. Picking up a rough homespun shirt, he dropped it on, his voice muffled until he stuck his head through the neck hole. "She does her best to keep the peace, but it's an uphill battle. Believe it or not, I'm actually fond of the man. He's very knowledgeable about politics and economics, and if I can keep him on those topics, he's fascinating to talk to. When he starts heading into propriety and appropriate behavior, though, I'm sunk. You wouldn't believe the arguments we've had about whether or not I should wear a wig." He sat down on a stool and took off the gold buckled shoes, held one up and looked at it distastefully. "You know, these shoes cost more than my entire wardrobe did before I married Elizabeth. There's something wrong with that!" He ducked behind a screen. A moment later the blue breeches appeared over the top and a brown homespun pair disappeared. Will emerged carrying a pair of worn boots, which he stamped into. "There. Much better." He glanced at Jack, who lounged at ease with a tankard. "I see you've found the rum."  
  
"Please!" said Jack with mock indignation. "It's ale! A bit too early in the morning for rum, mores the pity."  
  
"Ah, so Gwen is with you this trip." Guessed Will accurately. "Is she still sleeping?"  
  
"Aye," said Jack with a self-satisfied smirk. "I kept her up rather late last night."  
  
Will raised an eyebrow "Braggart."  
  
"Well I am Captain Jack Sparrow after all." Said Jack with a smug, contented grin.  
  
"Are you two going to make it legal at some point?"  
  
"I'm working up to it. Takes some getting used to just being in a long- term relationship. It's never happened to me before."  
  
Will grinned his own smug, contented grin. "Has some compensations, though, doesn't it."  
  
"That it does." Agreed Jack with a reminiscent smile. "By the by, Will, I showed the sword you made me to one or two gents, and they're wanting to have you make swords for them as well." He reached for his scabbard, which was slung over the back of his chair, drew his sword and handed it to Will.  
  
Will turned the sword in his hand. It was a beautiful weapon; folded steel blade, superbly balanced. The hilt was wrapped with black leather, criss- crossed with gold filigree. Decorative brass work gleamed on the guard and crosspieces and a large black pearl was mounted on the pommel. Will tilted the sword this way and that, and watched the light play along the blade. He looked cautiously at Jack. "You're not joking, are you?"  
  
"Not a bit!" answered Jack cheerfully. "One of the gents in question is a privateer captain who sails in and out of Basseterre. The other is a sugarcane planter nearby. I've got the specifications Captain Lawrence requested, but the planter would like to meet you himself. What say you to a trip to St. Kitts?"  
  
"St. Kitts?" asked Will. He handed the sword back to Jack and sat back looking a little thunderstruck. "I've wanted to start specializing in blades, rather than spend all my time doing farm implements and horseshoes." A wide smile started to spread over his face. "Maybe it's time."  
  
"Aye, maybe it's time." Jack got to his feet and shrugged himself into his coat. "Well, I've got to get myself up to the fort. Commodore Norrington expects me to drop in when I'm in port and I hate to disappoint him. Then I have to see to the disposition of our cargo." He slung his sword belt over his shoulder.  
  
"What do you have this time?" asked Will.  
  
"Silks and wines for the most part." Said Jack picking up his hat. "We ran into a tidy little French merchantman down by St. Lucia, delivering luxury goods from Europe. I picked out a few things for Elizabeth special. I'll bring them back here tonight." Jack made a point of picking out gifts for the Turners from his plunder.  
  
"Everyone in good health, I trust?" asked Will, meaning the Black Pearl's crew.  
  
"Aye, we've been lucky. And having Gwen to see to the injured after any battle has been a boon." He paused by the door. "Shall I be passing your compliments on to Norrington?" he said sarcastically.  
  
"Thank you, but no." replied Will, rolling his eyes again. Jack laughed and departed.  
  
--  
  
Don Bartolome de Salazar sat at his desk writing a letter when the tap came at his door. "Come!" he called. A young girl of about twenty years old entered and dropped a swift, graceful curtsy. "You sent for me, sir?"  
  
Don Bartolome sat back and studied her. The girl was beautiful, there was no question of that. Her glossy black hair was coiled on top of her head, her slender figure clothed in deep blue brocade. Her best feature was perhaps her eyes, which were a lovely blue. However, her eyes when they rested on him were almost always cold and remote. "Antonia. It pleases me to tell you that I have just had a letter from Senor Rodrigo Valera. He has requested your hand in marriage. Therefore you will travel to his plantation on Hispaniola, outside of Santo Domingo where you will be wed." He paused, waiting for a response. There was none forthcoming from the girl. He continued. "You will sail in four days. Senor Valera's younger brother and his wife have arrived and will accompany you to Hispaniola to be sure you arrive safely. Senor Tomas Valera will act as your guardian until the wedding."  
  
After a short pause, Antonia spoke. "Very well, sir. Will that be all?" Without waiting for a response, she curtsied again and swept from the room. 


	2. Chapter 2

Passage to St. Kitts  
  
Chapter 2  
  
Antonia walked quickly from her father's study to her own room. The emotions she'd kept in check while in his presence threatened to overwhelm her. Reaching her bedchamber, she quickly closed the door behind her so she could give in to the seething anger. Damn the man! Well, he'd wanted to get rid of her, and so he had. He would send her to the far side of the Caribbean and likely never set eyes on her again. Not that she minded that particularly, but the manner of her dismissal sparked her anger. Antonia had never been her father's favorite. Her parents' marriage had not been a happy one. Her mother's parents had arranged it, and the bride and groom had met for the first time at the altar. Antonia had been born less than a year later. Margarida de Salazar had spent most of the years of her marriage exiled to her husband's county estate outside of Portobello, while Don Bartolome had lived in the town. Periodically, Bartolome had visited his wife, in hopes of siring the heir he greatly desired. When Antonia had been four years old, her brother Luis had been born. However, when Luis was only a year old, Bartolome had removed him from his mother's care, and brought him to Portobello under the care of a nurse, leaving Margarida in the countryside with Antonia. After that, Margarida and Bartolome had rarely met. Antonia had barely known her father until her mother's death, five months before. Bartolome had come to the country house for the funeral, then brought Antonia back to town with him. Antonia was at a loss to understand why she had been almost completely ignored by her father for the whole of her twenty years, and now he was sending her away to be married to a man she'd never even heard of before. Her mind whirled with questions about this Rodrigo Valera, but she would cut out her tongue before she'd give her father the satisfaction of showing the slightest interest.  
  
The door opened quietly, and Antonia's maid entered. Ines had been with Antonia's mother since before Margarida had married Bartolome, and was devoted to Antonia. "I imagine the news has already spread throughout the servants' quarters, has is not?" snapped Antonia. "I am to be shipped off to Santo Domingo in four days."  
  
"Yes, my dear, I heard," said Ines softly. "And also that I will not be allowed to accompany you. I will miss you, child."  
  
Antonia folded the older woman in her arms. "And I will miss you too! I cannot imagine my life without you, Ines."  
  
"You are a dear girl, and your husband will be fortunate," Ines said. "But there is another reason I wished to speak to you now. Sit down, Tonia." Antonia sank onto the window seat, and Ines sat beside her. "Many years ago, your mother met a handsome young man, and English man who was accompanying a deputation from the King of England to the Governor of Panama. Margarida was struck by love as soon as she saw him.  
  
"An English man?" gasped Antonia. "She never said a word to me!"  
  
Ines smiled reminiscently. "Ah, but he was a handsome man, and he was as much in love with your mother as she was with him. They contrived to meet secretly and planned to run off together. The night came for their flight, and they were gone. Your mother's absence became known late the next morning. Her father and brothers went after them. They returned, with Margarida, two days later. They'd caught up with them. Margarida's oldest brother challenged the young man to a duel. Your uncle defeated, and killed him. As soon as they returned home, your grandfather arranged the marriage with Don Bartolome, and your mother married him six weeks later."  
  
"Dear God," breathed Antonia. "What a horrible thing, to have your lover killed and then forced to marry a stranger."  
  
Ines shook her head. "Not just her lover. They'd been married that first night that they'd run off." She pulled out a packet of papers from the pocket of her gown. "I have the marriage lines here, as well as a letter he'd written to her. The ring he gave her is here also."  
  
Speechless, Antonia took the papers and held them in her hands. "Married? They were married?"  
  
Ines looked at Antonia intently. "Tonia, love, your mother was pregnant when she married Don Bartolome. He is not your real father. Your father was this Englishman."  
  
Antonia looked at Ines sharply. "Does he know, Don Bartolome, I mean."  
  
Ines nodded. "Yes. Your mother confessed to her elopement, and you were born merely seven months after the wedding. He knew. Have you never wondered why he has so little regard for you?"  
  
"He knows I am not really his daughter," said Antonia slowly. "That is why he cares nothing for me." She looked up at Ines again. "Is this why he has never shown any affection for my mother?"  
  
"I do not doubt it," Ines answered. "When he discovered that she was not the virgin he thought she was, and that she was actually pregnant with another man's child, he was enraged. It is why he took your brother from her. He said he didn't want such a slut as she was to raise his son."  
  
Antonia rose and moved aimlessly around the room, pressing the packet of papers to her breast. Why had her mother never told her this? Ines rose as well and went to Antonia, putting a hand on her arm. "I'm sorry to upset you, my child, but I felt you should know. I will leave you now. Shall I come back in an hour to help you dress for dinner?"  
  
"Yes, thank you," said Antonia absently. When Ines left, closing the door softly behind her, Antonia reseated herself on the window seat, unfolding the packet of papers. A ring slid out of the packet as she opened it. It was a small signet ring; the type a man might wear on his little finger. The crest was of a golden colored swan. Antonia slipped it onto her own finger as her attention turned to the papers. The top one was the letter.  
  
Margarida, my darling,  
  
I will be waiting for you tonight at the back gate with horses to carry us away to our new lives together. Bring nothing that cannot be packed into a small saddlebag. I will provide all else for you.  
  
Your loving Roland  
  
The next paper was a straightforward document, registering the marriage of Margarida Theresa de Fuentes with Roland Charles Swann.  
  
--  
  
Commodore Norrington sat at his desk looking over some papers when a soldier stepped into the room. "Captain Sparrow to see you, sir."  
  
"Send him in.," said Norrington, who looked up as Jack entered the room. "Good day to you, Captain. I'd heard the Pearl came in last night."  
  
"Commodore." Said Jack politely with a slight bow. "I hope I find you well?"  
  
Norrington ignored the pleasantry "How was your voyage, Captain?"  
  
"One Spanish and two French ships, sir." Jack said in answer. "We ran into a bit of weather a few days ago, but no real harm done. I expect to stay in port for a week or ten days to have some sails repaired."  
  
"You're staying at Turner's shop, as usual, I suppose?"  
  
"Aye. Miss Tracy is with me. Some of the crew will be sleeping aboard ship, and some will be staying in inns along the waterfront."  
  
"Miss Tracy is well, I trust?"  
  
"Quite well, Commodore. Travel agrees with her." Jack allowed a trace of his earlier self-satisfied smile to hover on his lips, knowing it would irritate the Commodore.  
  
It did. Norrington shot him an exasperated look. "I don't suppose it would do any good to ask you about pirate activity."  
  
"No." answered Jack cheerily. "I will tell you that I encountered an English ship that had met up with one of me old Brethren of the Coast. She'd sustained some damage, so I escorted her to port in Antigua. Was that not heroic of me?"  
  
Norrington glared at him. "Which ship?"  
  
"The Verity." Said Jack. "Home port, Southampton.  
  
"And I suppose you won't tell me who the pirate was?"  
  
"Send to Antigua if you really want to know." Answered Jack. He rose to his feet and bowed again. "While I hate to break up such a pleasant little party, I really do have to see to my ship."  
  
Norrington continued to glare. "I don't know why I insist on you making these reports, Sparrow. You never tell me a damn thing."  
  
Jack paused at the door and looked back. "Mate, you need to get out of this office more. Take the Dauntless for a little spin, eh? You're getting gloomier every time I see you. A little salt spray on your face will do wonders for your disposition."  
  
"As a matter of fact, Sparrow, I'm accompanying Captain Gillette on the Defender in three days, headed to Barbados. The Dauntless," he said dryly, "is being fitted with her new figurehead so she will be in port for a few weeks."  
  
"Hope this one lasts longer than the last one," quipped Jack.  
  
"If I can keep you away from the helm, it may," retorted Norrington. 


	3. Chapter 3

Passage to St. Kitts  
  
Chapter 3  
  
Will opened the front door of the Governor's house and entered. He refused to ring the bell and make the butler admit him into his own house. Well not precisely his own, but the house he was living in after all.  
  
Will made it halfway up the stairs when the butler appeared. "Master William, sir, the Governor asked that you step into the library now that you've returned."  
  
Will paused, and then turned and retraced his steps back down the stairs. "Thank you, Peters," he said. The butler opened the library door and bowed Will inside.  
  
"Ah, Will!" said the Governor, rising from his desk. "I wanted to speak to you for a moment. Please, sit down." He moved to a sideboard and poured two brandies from a crystal decanter. Handing one to Will, he sat down again behind his desk."  
  
"I was speaking to Charles Haversham today, and he told me he was planning on bringing some of his slaves to auction as he's a bit short of funds at the moment, so I purchased one of them from him. I thought he'd make you a reasonable valet."  
  
Will started violently. "You bought me a slave? A valet?" He wasn't sure which word shocked him more.  
  
Governor Swann held up his hand. "I know, I know. We've had several discussions about the slave trade, and I'm well aware of your opinions about it. I don't disagree with you, Will, you know that. However, the fact remains that the slave trade is one of the foundations on which the economy of the West Indies rests. Whether slavery is right, wrong or indifferent doesn't change that fact. Think of it this way. By employing this man as your valet, you've saved him from a dreadful fate on Haversham's sugar plantation."  
  
Will leaned forward. "Sir, you're the Governor of Jamaica. Surely it is in your power to do something about the appalling way these black men and women are treated."  
  
The Governor looked at Will patiently. "I have to move carefully, Will. You know that. There are too many powerful men involved in the slave trade, and too many more that own slaves to work their plantations. Getting myself recalled to England in disgrace wouldn't help anyone. My own slaves at the plantation in Antigua are treated well, and I do what I can to quietly better the lot of the ones here under my jurisdiction."  
  
Will downed the rest of his brandy, rose and walked over to the decanter to pour himself another. The idea of owning a slave still appalled him. "Will, he belongs to you." Said the Governor, "Set him free if you feel you must, but think about it first. You can't merely turn him out the door with nowhere to go and no way to earn a living. Don't do anything hasty."  
  
Will slowly took his seat again. "All right."  
  
The Governor looked kindly at Will. "He's in reasonable health considering he's been on Haversham's plantation. I've had the doctor come in to take a look at him. He's malnourished, of course, but there will be no lasting ill affects. I've had my man provide him with some clothing to start with. I can't imagine he knows anything about being a valet, but Wilkins can instruct him."  
  
Will swallowed hard. His father-in-law was a kind man. Calling the doctor to visit a slave was more than most men would do. "Thank you, sir."  
  
--  
  
Will stepped into the room he shared with Elizabeth and closed the door behind him. Stripping off his coat, he went to hang it in the wardrobe. Sighing, he looked at the array of coats, waistcoats, shirts and breeches hanging there. More clothes than he'd ever had in his life. It was nothing, of course to what the Governor had hanging in his closets. Nor Elizabeth, who not only had clothes hanging in this room, but also had racks and racks of gowns stored elsewhere in the house. When Will had married Elizabeth just over a year ago, he'd had firm plans. He would reside here in the Governor's house so that Elizabeth could continue to live the life she was accustomed to, but he wouldn't allow that fact to change who he, himself, was. He'd planned on continuing to work as a blacksmith, merely going home to the Governor's house rather than climbing the stairs to the loft in the shop where he'd always slept before. There was so much, however, that he hadn't considered. For heaven's sake, he'd had to have Elizabeth teach him proper table manners so he wouldn't embarrass himself. And he'd never expected to find himself attending social gatherings given by the elite of Jamaica. He was uncomfortably aware that he didn't fit in there. And he no longer fit in with the young men he'd been friendly with before, young tradesmen and journeymen craftsmen who worked in the less prosperous section of town, near his own shop. They were uncomfortable in his company now, he who was married to the Governor's daughter. Will sighed again. Was he losing himself?  
  
A discreet tap sounded on the door. "Come in," said Will, turning from his contemplation of his clothing. Wilkins, his father-in-law's valet appeared, followed by a large black man.  
  
Wilkins addressed the other man. "This is Master William. You will be seeing to him." With a bow to Will, and a sniff of disapproval, Wilkins stepped back into the hall and closed the door. The black man stood stock still, staring warily at Will. He was tall and broad shouldered though his sunken cheeks and the way his cotton shirt hung on him showed that he was considerably underweight.  
  
Will spoke to him uncomfortably. "What is your name?"  
  
"They call me Joseph."  
  
Will gestured to a chair. "Please sit."  
  
Joseph lowered himself into the chair, still looking wary. Will sank onto the stool in front of Elizabeth's dressing table. "How long have you worked for Haversham?" He refused to say "owned by."  
  
"Five years, sir."  
  
"And before that?"  
  
"I worked in a warehouse near the docks, sir, for ten years. Before that I lived in Africa, sir. Was brought here on a ship." Will shifted in his seat and looked uncomfortable. Joseph spoke again, "That man, he say I'm to look after you?"  
  
"Yes," said Will, clearing his throat. "I don't suppose you know how to be a valet."  
  
Joseph looked at him. Was there a glint of humor in those dark eyes? "I don't know what that word means."  
  
Will lips twisted into a wry smile. "I'm not entirely sure I do either."  
  
--  
  
"Thank you, Mary, that will be all for tonight," said Elizabeth.  
  
"Yes, ma'am," said the maid obediently, setting down the hairbrush she'd just used on Elizabeth's hair. With a smile and a quick curtsy, Mary exited the room, shutting the door.  
  
"So, tell me again what Jack said to you about the swords," requested Elizabeth, turning toward Will.  
  
"He wants me to go to St. Kitts with him to talk to this planter who wants a custom weapon," replied Will. "I'm seriously considering it."  
  
"It would be pleasant to go," agreed Elizabeth. "We could call it a belated honeymoon. After all, we never did get to Antigua last year."  
  
Will looked up at her. "You'd want to come too?"  
  
Elizabeth looked affronted. "Of course I'd want to come!" She got up from her dressing table and came across to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "You don't think I'd let you go sailing off on a pirate ship without me, do you?"  
  
Will kissed her. "Privateer, darling. I'm not sure your father would be in favor of you sailing on the Black Pearl."  
  
Elizabeth stepped back and shrugged. "As long as my husband approves, my father really hasn't the right to forbid me." She watched Will struggle out of his clothes. "Why don't you have your new valet help you?" Will paused and shot her an exasperated look, then continued to undress. Elizabeth smiled. "What in the world are you going to do with him?"  
  
Will shrugged. "I thought I'd take him with me to the shop tomorrow. He'd probably be useful there. Who knows, maybe he'd like to learn smithing."  
  
"You can probably use the help there, Will. Having someone to do the more basic work would free you up to concentrate on blades." Elizabeth took off her dressing gown, and draped it over the foot of the bed.  
  
"That's true. What about the trip to St. Kitts?"  
  
"Bring him along," Elizabeth suggested, settling into bed and pulling the covers up.  
  
"I could I suppose," said Will dropping his own dressing gown on the foot of the bed, and climbing in. Reaching out he pulled Elizabeth over so her head was on his shoulder. "Mmmmm," he sighed. "I have to be up early tomorrow."  
  
Elizabeth sat up abruptly. "Not again!" she exclaimed. "Who is it this time?"  
  
"Relax, love," Will replied, pulling her back down. "John MacLaren's cousin from Georgia. Or was it Virginia? I can't remember. Edmund or Edward or something. I think John put him up to it."  
  
With a bad tempered flounce, Elizabeth lay back down. "You have to stop fighting so many duels," she said sharply. "One of these days you'll run up against someone who is a better swordsman than you're expecting."  
  
"Elizabeth," said Will with exasperation, "there isn't much I can do about it. I'M not the one picking the quarrels. The kid I'm meeting tomorrow came up to me at the Smithfield's the other night. We were barely introduced when he started with the usual string of insults. The only way I can think to stop this nonsense is by killing one of them, and I scarcely want to do that."  
  
Elizabeth glared at him. "I don't like it."  
  
"Oh, come now, my love," Will coaxed. "You don't want to send me off tomorrow to my possible death without something to remember me by, do you?" He pulled her into his arms again. After a token pretence of resistance, Elizabeth melted against him. 


	4. Chapter 4

Passage to St. Kitts  
  
Chapter 4  
  
Shortly before dawn, Will rose and slipped quietly out of bed. Dressing quickly in a simple pair of breeches and a shirt, he picked up his waistcoat, coat and boots before slipping out the door. If Elizabeth woke up she'd argue with him again, and he didn't need the distraction. He made his way through the still dark house to the kitchen. There he was not surprised to find the cook already awake, with a cup of coffee and a biscuit waiting for him. Telling the stable boy he'd need his horse ready this early was the same as making a general announcement to the household that he was fighting this morning. "Bless you, Mrs. Lowry," he said gratefully as he took a swallow of the hot brew before struggling into his waistcoat and coat.  
  
"Well, you be careful this morning, Master Will," said Mrs. Lowry sharply. "I declare I don't know what these young bucks are thinking of to keep challenging you like this. Have you lost one yet?"  
  
"Not yet," replied Will through a mouthful of biscuit. He stamped into his boots and took a last swallow of coffee before heading out the kitchen door into the stable yard, slinging his baldric over his shoulder.  
  
"He's all saddled up, sir!" piped Tim the sable boy, leading up Will's horse, a rather nondescript chestnut gelding. "Can I come with you this morning, sir? You promised me last time that I could."  
  
"If you like. Just don't tell your ma, or she'll skin me!" Will grinned as he gathered his reins and mounted.  
  
"Joseph wants to come too!" Tim confided, bringing out a second horse.  
  
"Oh?" asked Will, looking around and seeing the man standing near the kitchen door. "Joseph, can you ride?"  
  
"No, sir, but the lad said he'd take me up with him," replied Joseph.  
  
"Oh, all right then," said Will. "Tim, when you have time, could you teach Joseph to ride? I'd appreciate it."  
  
"Yes, sir," said the lad hopping into the saddle. Joseph climbed up behind him, and they headed off down the carriageway.  
  
Lt. Markson, who usually served as Will's second, was waiting just beyond the gate. "G'morning Will." He mumbled, yawning. "I see you brought an audience with you today."  
  
"Good morning, Richard," replied Will. "Can I help it if people want to watch?"  
  
Two years ago, when Will and Elizabeth had become engaged, the sons of the local aristocrats had been enraged at the thought of the Governor's daughter marrying a lowly blacksmith. They'd insulted him whenever possible, and Will had challenged them to back up their words with their swords. Not for nothing had Will practiced swordplay for three hours a day for many years, and to their frustration, none of the young men were able to so much as wound the upstart blacksmith. After several duels, Will has taken to slashing each man's face with his sword tip, leaving a two or three inch cut just below the cheekbone, just deep enough to leave a scar. He'd hoped that this would discourage them from continuing to challenge him, but so far it hadn't worked. Grimly he wondered if the small scars were becoming status symbols.  
  
After several minutes ride they came to a stretch of beach out of sight from the town. Dismounting, Will handed the chestnut's reins to Joseph, and stripped off his coat and waistcoat, draping them over the saddle. Markson dismounted as well, tossing the reins to his horse to Tim, and sauntering over to where Edmund and John MacLaren were waiting. "I don't suppose you intend to apologize?" he asked without much hope.  
  
Edmund MacLaren looked frightened, obviously someone had told him what a good swordsman Will was, but John MacLaren snapped, "Of course not!". Markson, shrugged, then flicked a finger over his own unmarked cheek - a wordless reference to the small scar that decorated John's, and walked back over to Will.  
  
"No luck?" asked Will, swinging his arms to warm up his muscles.  
  
"No, though I think your opponent this morning is scared to death," confided Markson. "You were right, John put him up to it."  
  
"Oh, well then. Let's get it over with." Will drew his sword and tossed the scabbard onto the ground where it wouldn't be in the way. He walked to the center of the quiet beach and waited. Slowly, Edmund walked over to him. "Are you sure you're up to this?" asked Will. "You don't look as though you slept particularly well last night."  
  
Edmund did his best to work up a sneer. "I don't need comments on my health from the likes of you."  
  
"As you say," answered Will mildly, saluting his opponent. "En garde."  
  
Edmund lunged at Will, who parried the thrust effortlessly. Again, Edmund attacked, and again Will neatly deflected his blade. Several minutes later, Will grew bored with toying with his opponent and attacked. It only took a moment or two to slap the sword from Edmund's hand, and flick the sword tip over his cheek. Bending, Will picked up Edmund's sword and held it out. "Can I assume you surrender?" he asked.  
  
Without speaking, Edmund snatched his sword from Will's hand and marched up the beach to where John and their horses were waiting. A few minutes later, the two men were gone.  
  
"Excellent form!" called a voice from the trees. Will whirled around to see Jack stepping forward onto the beach. "Excellent. How you stay in practice fighting imbeciles like that, however, is beyond my comprehension."  
  
"Captain Sparrow," said Markson, walking forward to clasp Jack's hand. "Good to see you, sir."  
  
"Hello, Markson," said Jack.  
  
"Richard and several of his friends from Fort Charles come down a couple times a week to practice," said Will. "Helps to keep me sharp."  
  
"Is that so?" asked Jack, interest lighting in his eyes. "How good are you?" he asked Markson.  
  
Markson grinned and drew his sword. "For fun?"  
  
Jack grinned in answer, pulled off his baldric and coat, and then drew his own sword. "For fun."  
  
Will sat down on the sand to watch his friends fight. Tim tethered the horses nearby and he and Joseph sat down as well. It was a good show. Markson's conservative military background was a startling contrast to Jack's flamboyant style. Since Markson had been fencing with Will, he'd loosened up quite a bit, but it was still humorous to watch. Jack was obviously toying with him and Markson knew it, but from the grin on his face he wasn't offended. Finally Jack slapped the sword from Markson's hand and the bout was over. "Ohhhh! You got me!" laughed Richard. "That was wonderful!"  
  
Jack grinned. "My thanks for the entertainment, Lieutenant." He turned to look at Will. "Hey, Turner! Now that I'm warmed up, care to have a try?"  
  
Will leaned back on his elbows, "Oh, I don't know. Reasonable form I suppose, but how's your footwork?"  
  
"Get your skinny butt down here and find out!" Jack called.  
  
Laughing, Will got to his feet and drew his sword. "Are you that anxious for a scar on your cheek?"  
  
"I'm the only one I've ever heard of who's beaten you, so don't get cocky."  
  
"That's only because you cheated. In a fair fight I'd kill you."  
  
"Who said anything about fair?" asked Jack, then lunged unexpectedly. Will barely parried the thrust, then flicked his own sword toward Jack's face. It was stopped a bare inch from Jack's nose. Both men were excellent swordsmen - Will better at classic fencing, while Jack had more than twenty years of experience as a pirate with an endless supply of tricks up his sleeve. They ranged up and down the beach, in and out of the water, using every move and trick each knew, but neither was able to disarm the other. Finally, knee deep in the water, Jack hooked a foot around Will's ankle and tripped him. Will wasn't quite able to save himself from falling, but he was able to drag Jack down with him. They surfaced sputtering and laughing, ready to call the match a draw. Throwing their arms around each other's shoulders, they staggered to shore.  
  
"You cheated again," Will said, gasping with laughter.  
  
"You have to get over this fixation you have with fair play," Jack grinned. "You'll never get anywhere with that attitude." 


	5. Chapter 5

Passage to St. Kitts  
  
Chapter 5  
  
Annamaria woke in a cold sweat in her bunk on the Black Pearl. She tossed back the covers and staggered over to the washbasin where she splashed cold water on her face. The dream had been so vivid. She sat back down on the bunk, leaned back and closed her eyes. Her left hand pushed aside the collar of the old shirt she slept in and traced the S shaped brand on her right shoulder. Would she never forget? No, some things remained burned in memory as surely as the mark remained burned on her flesh.  
  
Her earliest memories were of a large, warm kitchen bustling with energy. She remembered her mother, a lovely black woman who worked in that kitchen. When very young, she'd spent her days playing with simple toys underneath the huge wooden table where she was out of the way of the women working. There were other children too, sons and daughters of the kitchen workers. The made up elaborate games under that table, daring each other to dart out into the main area of the kitchen and back without earning a sharp reproof from one of the women. When they were a bit older, they had chores to do - weeding the kitchen garden, feeding the chickens in the coop behind the kitchen, sweeping the floors, washing dishes. Still, they managed to find time to play in the yard behind the kitchen. But they never ventured near the formal gardens adjacent to the grand white house. And they NEVER left the kitchen area to explore the rest of the house. Estelle, Annamaria's mother, shared a small room just off the main kitchen with two other women. They had straw stuffed pallets on the floor of the small room, and the women shared their pallets with their children. Annamaria recalled drifting off to sleep in her mother's arms, while Estelle sang softly to her.  
  
But then there were the other nights, the nights when a large, hard looking white man would appear at the door of the small room. The two other women would gather up the children, including Annamaria, and leave Estelle alone with the man. The women would make pallets for the children with the blankets they'd hastily snatched up. Sometimes the man would stay only a short while, striding back through the kitchen toward the rest of the house, stuffing his shirt back into his breeches, without even a glance at the women and children he'd displaced by his coming. Sometimes he stayed much longer, and Annamaria woke the next morning still in the main kitchen. Sometimes Estelle seemed no different after these visits. Sometimes she had bruises and black eyes. No matter how often Annamaria asked, however, her mother would not speak of it.  
  
As the years passed, Annamaria became responsible for more and more chores. By the time she was ten, she was working a full day in the kitchen with the other women. By then she understood the reason for the occasional visits from the white man. She knew that he was the owner of the big, white house, and the owner of all the slaves that lived there. She knew also, that he was her father, and the father of the younger sister who had been born a few years earlier. She knew that even though she was his daughter, she was of no value to him at all. And she knew that she hated him. She hated him for his callous treatment of her mother, for his indifference to the children he'd fathered by her.  
  
She had little contact with the slaves who lived in the quarters nearer the cotton fields, but some of the other women did. They had sons, daughters, brothers, sisters, husbands or lovers who lived and worked out there. From them she heard stories of the lives of the slaves, the harshness of the white overseer who supervised the work in the fields. She knew the house slaves better. The butler, the housekeeper, the maids who kept the big house clean, and who looked after the family that lived there. She'd never ventured into the main house, but she heard all about it. She'd never caught more than a glimpse of the fine lady who was married to the owner, but she knew all about her, and her failure to provide the owner with the heir he wanted. She'd heard of his cruelty to the lady, and hated him all the more.  
  
By the time she was thirteen, Annamaria had matured into a lovely girl, on the brink of womanhood. She delighted in her developing body, and took pleasure in the admiring looks she received from the boys who worked in the house and the stable yard. Her mother seemed less pleased with Annamaria's young beauty, but it wasn't until the summer of her thirteenth year that she understood why. One evening, the kitchen women were washing the dishes and tidying the kitchen after the evening meal. The butler appeared in the doorway, looking uncomfortable. "Annamaria," he'd said. "You must come with me."  
  
In confusion, Annamaria saw that Estelle had sunk down into a chair, trembling. "What is wrong, Mamma?" she had asked. Her question was ignored.  
  
"Come, girl," repeated the butler, sympathy in his dark eyes. "You mustn't tarry."  
  
Mystified, Annamaria had followed the man though the servants' quarters to the main house. Gaping at the magnificence, she'd followed the butler up the stairs to what turned out to be the owner's study on the second floor. The butler had ushered her inside, and quickly retreated, leaving her alone with the owner and another man.  
  
"Very pretty!" the second man had said, looking her up and down in a way that had made Annamaria extremely nervous. She had stood just inside the door, unsure of what to do.  
  
"I remember that you like them young," the owner had replied, lounging back with a cigar. "This one is untouched, to the best of my knowledge."  
  
The two men had spoken for a few more moments, then the second man had grasped Annamaria by the arm and led her down the hall to a bedroom. The happenings after that were something that Annamaria, even after all these years, was unable to think through. She recalled screaming once, then being struck in the face and told to keep quiet. She recalled staggering from the room much later, pain radiating from between her legs, her eyes glazed and her mind barely functioning. One of the housemaids had been there; polishing the furniture in the room opposite the one Annamaria had been taken to. The woman had helped Annamaria down the stairs and back to the kitchen. Only later had Annamaria realized that the woman had been there on purpose, waiting for her, knowing that Annamaria would need help. The only help that the slaves had been able to offer. The kitchen workers had been waiting for her as well. A hot bath had been prepared - a luxury Annamaria had rarely experienced before. The women had stripped the shocked girl of her clothing and washed her tenderly, the hot water soothing her torn flesh and her scattered wits. It was only later, alone in the little room off the kitchen with Estelle that Annamaria had been able to speak, to tell her mother what had happened to her. To hear the horrible truth, that this was the lot of a slave girl who'd been born pretty.  
  
Two days later, after a second session in that bedroom with the same man, Annamaria had bolted. Her only thought had been to get as far away as possible from the big white house, the man who'd hurt her and the owner who had to power to casually allow his daughter to be abused by his guests. As might be expected, she'd been caught not twenty-four hours later. The men who'd caught her had dragged her back to the local jail. She'd been raped by each of them before the red-hot poker with the S shaped brand had been pressed into the skin of her right shoulder.  
  
Dragging her thoughts back to the present day, Annamaria splashed more cold water on her face and dressed in her customary breeches, linen shirt and soft leather boots. It was not particularly feminine garb, but it was suited to her life as a member of a pirate crew. Privateer crew, she amended with a smile. Dragging a brush through her hair she looked in her small mirror. Yes, she was still pretty. Fifteen years and a lifetime away from that frightened abused girl, and she was still pretty. Only now, with her sword belt slung over her shoulder and her pistol thrust into her leather belt, no one would ever touch her again without her permission. 


	6. Chapter 6

Passage to St. Kitts  
  
Chapter 6  
  
After returning to the Governor's house to change into dry clothes and reassure Elizabeth that he was still alive, Will walked to his shop, followed by Joseph. "Is that you, Cotton?" called a voice from the loft. Gwen came down the stairs. "Oh, Will, it's you. Cotton was supposed to come and escort me to Dr. Althorpe's this morning, but it appears that he's late."  
  
"I can escort you, if you like," said Will. "Joseph, if anyone comes by, tell them I'll be back shortly."  
  
"Thank you, Will," said Gwen, tying the ribbons of her hat. "Jack prefers I not walk around alone. He's always afraid I'll run into someone from one of his raids who doesn't remember him fondly."  
  
"He's made some enemies," agreed Will. "Best to be safe." He smiled at Gwen and offered her his arm. She took it, and they left the shop. "Will you be with the doctor all day? Elizabeth was going to come down later this afternoon to see you."  
  
"Yes, I spoke to her yesterday. I should be back in a few hours. Dr. Althorpe was kind enough to offer to show me how to make some different medicines for cough and fever. It shouldn't take too long."  
  
As they strolled down the street, Will saw the wife of one of the plantation owners leaving a shop with her two daughters. He tipped his hat, "Good morning, Mrs. Salton, Miss Salton, Miss Jessica."  
  
The lady nodded slightly. "Good morning, Mr. Turner." Then her eyes fell on Gwen. An expression of acute indignation crossed her face, and she quickly ushered her daughters away. As she bustled off, Will heard her mutter, "That pirate's whore."  
  
Will stopped dead in his tracks and stared after the ladies, opened mouthed. Gwen tugged on his arm and urged him to continue on. "Don't pay any attention, Will."  
  
"Didn't you hear what she said about you?" he asked indignantly.  
  
"Yes, I heard," said Gwen. Her face, though paler than it was when they started out, was perfectly composed. "It's not the first time someone has said that about me. It won't be the last."  
  
Will resumed walking, though his face was no longer relaxed and smiling. "Does Jack know that this sort of thing keeps happening to you?"  
  
"No, and you won't tell him," said Gwen forcefully. "He'd just get as enraged as you are. There's nothing to be done about it after all. And besides," she added bitterly, "it's true."  
  
"It is not!" Will was shocked. "How could you think of yourself that way?"  
  
Gwen shrugged. "I don't generally. But the fact remains; I'm living with Jack Sparrow without benefit of clergy. The kindest thing you could say is that I'm his mistress."  
  
"No," said Will. "You're Jack's lady."  
  
Gwen smiled warmly. "Will, you say the loveliest things. It must be why Elizabeth loves you."  
  
Will walked in silence for a few minutes. "Have you tried to convince Jack to marry you?"  
  
Gwen laughed. "No, he's not ready for that. I don't know that he ever will be. He's Captain Jack Sparrow, Will. He's not a normal man. I knew that when I became involved with him." She shot Will a wry smile. "You could say I've made my bed and now I must lie in it."  
  
Will continued to look troubled. "Do you love him?"  
  
Gwen smiled "Of course I do! And he loves me, more than he's ever loved anyone, I believe. He can't bring himself to say it, but I know it. Don't let that woman's comment disturb you, Will. I've learned to shake it off."  
  
"How is it that Jack doesn't know?" Will asked.  
  
"Why do you think I prefer having Cotton escort me around?" asked Gwen mischievously.  
  
Will raised his eyebrow. "What does Cotton's parrot say?"  
  
Gwen mimicked the parrot's tone, "She's a bonny lass, she is!"  
  
--  
  
Annamaria walked through the streets of Port Royal, ignoring the stares she was receiving. It was inevitable, after all. A black woman, dressed as a man, armed with a sword and pistol was something that was nearly unheard of. It was one of the reasons she tended to avoid going into the towns they stopped at, and why she almost never stayed ashore when they were in port, preferring to sleep aboard the Black Pearl instead. She could handle herself, but why ask for trouble? She reached the street where Will's shop was located and entered. A quick look around the shop showed that it was empty except for a large black man examining the swords Will kept in a rack near the forge. "Where is Will Turner?" she asked.  
  
The man turned to face her warily then gaped at the sight of her standing in the doorway. "Master Will will be back shortly," he said, clearly stunned at the picture she presented.  
  
Annamaria frowned and shut the door behind her. "Is Gwen Tracy here?"  
  
"No ma'am. Master Will is escorting her to the doctor's."  
  
Annamaria looked at him in puzzlement. "Who are you?"  
  
--  
  
Will stepped inside his shop, disturbed by the discussion he and Gwen had just had. He was so preoccupied, that he didn't even see the blow aimed for his face until it had landed. Off balance and unprepared, Will's head snapped around and he staggered into the wall. He'd barely started to regain his balance when a second hard slap had landed, bouncing his head off the doorframe. Blinking, he managed to block the third blow and was finally able to see the furious woman standing before him.  
  
"You bastard!" screamed Annamaria, launching another blow.  
  
With a fencer's quick reflexes, Will managed to grab her wrist, twist her arm behind her and shove her against the wall. "Stop it!" he shouted in her ear. "What in God's name is the matter with you?"  
  
Annamaria merely shrieked more curses at him and stomped her heel on his instep. Howling in pain, Will staggered back, releasing her. With bloodlust in her eyes, she started to draw her sword and stopped with it halfway out of the sheath. Joseph suddenly stepped forward between the two of them, hands half raised. Realizing what she was about to do, she stopped and slammed her sword back into the scabbard. Will stepped back and raised his hands in front of him. "Anna, stop. What have I done?"  
  
"You own a slave?" she spat at him. "You of all people, whom I THOUGHT was my friend, you own a slave?"  
  
Will groaned and glanced at Joseph, who was looking as if he didn't know whether or not he should jump in to protect his master, or to protect the strange black woman who would dare to strike a white man. "Anna, it's a long story. Sit down, please? I'll tell you the whole thing." He gestured toward a chair. "Would you like some rum? Lord knows I could use some."  
  
Annamaria lowered herself stiffly into the chair Will had indicated. "How could you, Will?"  
  
Will handed her a mug and looked at her warily. "The Governor gave him to me yesterday. Come on, Anna, it's been less than twenty-four hours. Give me a break. I haven't figured out what to do yet." Annamaria relaxed slightly and took a swallow of the rum. "That's better," Will said. "Joseph, would you like a drink as well?"  
  
Joseph looked startled. "Thank you, sir," he said cautiously.  
  
Will handed him a mug. "Joseph, I'd like to formally introduce you to Miss Annamaria Simmone. She's the second mate of the privateer ship, the Black Pearl." He smiled at Annamaria as he spoke. "She's a free woman, and a good friend. When she's not trying to kill me that is. Anna, this is Joseph. He's been in the West Indies for two years, and in my EMPLOY," he emphasized, "since yesterday."  
  
"Employ?" said Annamaria sarcastically.  
  
"Employ," said Will firmly. "Now if you've decided to let me live for a while longer, I need to get to work. I've a lot to do if I'm going to sail with you next week." He got up and retrieved a case that was leaning against the wall near the forge. "Though I'm glad you stopped by, I've got something for you." He opened the case, took out a sword and offered it to her, hilt first. "Just don't kill me with it."  
  
Annamaria's mouth dropped open, and she reached out to grasp the hilt. The sword was gorgeous. The dim light from the window of the shop glittered along the length of the blade. It was lighter than the sword she'd been using and the balance was perfect. The hilt was wrapped with dark red leather and gold wire. Two small garnets decorated the ends of the crosspieces and a larger garnet glittered on the pommel. Annamaria was speechless. "Will, I..uh,"  
  
"Jack gave me the stones," Will said, "when I told him I was going to make this for you. Consider it a joint gift from the two of us." To Will's amazement, Annamaria burst into tears. Not only had he never seen her cry, he'd never even imagined that she could. "Here," he said hurriedly. "Elizabeth and Gwen commissioned a scabbard and baldric to match. He pulled out a leather scabbard and sword belt dyed the same dark wine red as the leather on the sword hilt. He lifted her old baldric off over her head, and buckled the new one in place, fastening it with a large gold buckle set with several small garnets. "Again, the stones come from Jack. The tanner put a finish on the leather so the color won't bleed all over your clothing the first time it gets wet." He stepped back and looked cautiously at the tears still streaming down her face. "Are you okay?" Without answering she flung her arms around his neck and hugged him. Then she mumbled something about making sure Gwen had an escort from the doctor's house and rushed from the shop.  
  
Will smiled and turned to Joseph. "Do you think she liked it?"  
  
Joseph looked at him with wide eyes. "You made a sword like that for a woman, a black woman?"  
  
Will grinned at him. "She's a fine swordsman, but her old weapon wasn't well balanced." He drew her old sword from the scabbard he still held. "See? You should be able to balance it on your finger about an inch and a half or two inches from the hilt. With this one I have to balance three or four inches from the hilt. This means the hilt isn't heavy enough. I can't really tell without taking it apart, but the tang probably isn't very wide."  
  
"What is a tang?"  
  
"The tang is the part of the blade that goes inside the handle. A properly balanced blade has a tang that is nearly the same width as the blade. But since it's easier to make the tang narrower that's what some people do. Yes, it's easier, but the sword isn't as good. Look." Will took a sword from his rack near the forge and balanced it on his finger. "See? This is one I made. It balances one and a half inches from the hilt. It's no where near as fancy as the one I gave Annamaria," he said indicating the plain brown leather and steel wire wrapped hilt, "but the blade itself is the same quality. This one is heavier and a bit longer. It's made for a larger person with longer arms." Will reversed the hilt and offered the sword to Joseph. "Here, try it."  
  
Joseph was taken aback. 'Is it permissible for me to touch this?" he asked uncertainly.  
  
Will shrugged. "It is if I say so. Take it."  
  
Joseph took the sword and hefted it in his hands. Will corrected his grip and started showing him how to stand, balance and hold his arms. 


	7. Chapter 7

Passage to St. Kitts  
  
Chapter 7  
  
By the time Annamaria reached Dr. Althorpe's house, she had managed to compose herself. She stroked her hand down the smooth leather of the baldric, fingering the gold buckle. She was astonished at her reaction to the gift. She tried to remember the last time she'd cried, but couldn't. She tried to remember the last time someone had given her a gift of this magnitude and couldn't. Probably no one ever had. She shook her head in bewilderment. The amount of money this sword was worth floored her. And Will had given it to her. It must have taken months to make, patiently folding the steel of the blade, time and time again. And Jack, giving Will a good handful of jewels, gems he could have sold. And even Gwen and Elizabeth! As ship's doctor, Gwen received an officer's share of the Pearl's plunder, true, but to spend so much of it on her? It staggered the mind.  
  
As Annamaria walked up to the doctor's house, Gwen stepped out, followed by Dr. Althorpe. "Annamaria! What good timing. I was just about to start back to Will's shop." She spied the new sword belt and sword and smiled. "I see Will has given you the sword." Annamaria swallowed and tried to express her gratitude, but Gwen waved her silent. "Stop. Will wanted to make you a sword because he said yours didn't balance correctly. The rest of us got into the spirit of the thing and it got slightly out of hand! If you're pleased that's all the thanks we need."  
  
Annamaria had drawn the sword to show to Gwen (who didn't let on that Will had already shown it to her), when a voice was heard behind them. "What have we here? Don't tell me that a colored woman could have a jeweled sword? Where did you steal if from?" Annamaria and Gwen looked up in surprise to see John MacLaren standing there with a sneer on his face. "Hand it over, girl, and I won't say anything to the constable."  
  
In the year that Gwen had lived aboard the Black Pearl, she and Annamaria had become close friends. Among the many sterling qualities Gwen had, one of the ones Annamaria found most amusing was her ability to deliver a deadly insult in such a serene gracious tone that the recipient often did not realize he or she had been insulted until much later. Some people never figured it out. Gwen smiled sweetly. "Mr. MacLaren, is it not? I believe we met last time our ship was in port. Where did you get that scar on your face? It isn't from a sword tip, is it? I do hope you weren't badly injured."  
  
John flushed, making the small white scar stand out even more. "Never mind about that. Hand over the sword."  
  
Annamaria spoke calmly. "The sword belongs to me and is not stolen."  
  
MacLaren sneered again. "How could a slave have a sword like that? What is a slave doing with a sword anyway?"  
  
Annamaria clenched her teeth, but stayed calm. "I am not a slave, sir. And whether or not I have a sword is of no concern of yours."  
  
Gwen spoke up again. "Come, Annamaria. I'm sure now that Mr. MacLaren has realized that he is mistaken, he will excuse us. Will you not, sir?"  
  
"I'll not be spoken to in that fashion, not by a colored woman or a pirate's doxy." MacLaren snarled. "Whores, the pair of you. I don't know why you're allowed to walk around in this part of town. You should stay on the waterfront where you belong."  
  
Dr. Althorpe sputtered "Well, I say."  
  
Annamaria's reaction was more dramatic. She hadn't sheathed her sword as yet, so lifting it to MacLaren's throat took only an instant. "I don't believe I care for your words regarding myself or my good friend. Perhaps you'd care to apologize?"  
  
In answer, MacLaren stepped back and drew his own sword. Gwen sighed. "Don't hurt him, Anna. It would be more hassle than it's worth," she said as she moved away to give the two duelists room, drawing the doctor with her.  
  
The clash of steel soon drew a crowd, who watched avidly as the two fought. Annamaria, with an unfamiliar weapon in her hand, had started cautiously, but as she grew more used to the different weight and balance her swordplay grew bolder. It soon became apparent to the spectators that MacLaren was overmatched. Gwen sighed again. "Annamaria, we're going to be late. Please finish your duel and let's go."  
  
"Oh, Gwen, you're such a spoilsport." Annamaria said with a smile as she drove MacLaren back a few paces.  
  
Suddenly the crowd parted, and two men in faultless military uniform appeared at the edge of the fray. Taking in the situation at a glance, Commodore Norrington spotted Gwen and moved over to her. "Miss Tracy," he said, kissing her hand. "What a pleasure to see you again."  
  
Gwen curtsied gracefully. "The pleasure is mine, Commodore."  
  
Markson followed Norrington to Gwen's side. "Your servant, Miss Tracy," he said with a precise military bow. "Annamaria!" he called. "How do you like the sword?"  
  
Annamaria's grin flashed white in her dark face. "I love it! The balance is marvelous!" Effortlessly she parried another one of MacLaren's not particularly well aimed thrusts. "Is the scar on the left cheek Will's calling card?" she asked.  
  
"Why yes!" said Markson with a grin. "I believe it is."  
  
Commodore Norrington raised his voice, "Mr. MacLaren, Miss Simone, were you not aware that swordplay is not permitted in the streets of Port Royal?"  
  
"I beg your pardon, Commodore," said Annamaria, disengaging and stepping back slightly, sword still at guard.  
  
MacLaren was not so calm. "This bitch insulted me!" he shouted. "She's nothing but a thief. Haul her off to jail, Commodore!"  
  
"To jail?" asked Norrington mildly. "What on earth for?"  
  
"Look at that sword," snarled MacLaren. "She must have stolen it."  
  
Markson started to speak, but Norrington silenced him with a raised hand. "Miss Simone, might I examine your sword?" Annamaria offered it hilt first. "Hmmm," Said Norrington reflexively, examining the sword. "Very nice. A bit light for my taste, but you no doubt find it suits you very well." He handed it back to her. "A lovely weapon, Miss Simone. You are to be congratulated." Annamaria took the sword back, but didn't sheath it.  
  
MacLaren stared incredulously "You're giving it back to her? She's a thief!"  
  
"Mr. MacLaren," said the Commodore with a hint of impatience in his voice. "Miss Simone is a privateer. It is her job to be a thief. Not against Englishmen, of course. However, William Turner, if I am not mistaken, made that sword. Is that not correct, Miss Simone?"  
  
"Yes, sir," Annamaria answered. "He gave it to me earlier today."  
  
"A princely gift," said Norrington, eyebrows raised. "You are indeed fortunate in your friends."  
  
"Indeed I am sir."  
  
"You're just going to let this bitch and her whore friend off scot free?" asked MacLaren.  
  
Annamaria's sword was up instantly and flicked across MacLaren's cheek. A thin red line appeared, bisecting the old scar neatly to form an X just below his cheekbone. "You will speak of Miss Tracy with respect," Annamaria said quietly.  
  
MacLaren pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at the blood on his face. "Did you see what she did!" he said accusingly to Norrington.  
  
"I did indeed," said Norrington mildly.  
  
"What are you going to do about it?"  
  
"I'm going to suggest you speak of Miss Tracy with respect in the future," said Norrington in a slightly bored voice. "I will also suggest you refrain from picking quarrels with swordsmen who are clearly superior to you. Haven't you got somewhere else you should be, Mr. MacLaren?"  
  
Furiously, MacLaren slammed his sword into his scabbard and whirled around. Just as he started to stalk away, Markson twitched the handkerchief out of his hand. With a bow, he handed the bloodstained square of cloth to Annamaria. She took it with a smile and carefully wiped her blade before sheathing it.  
  
"Miss Simone, Miss Tracy," said the Commodore. "May we offer you our escort?"  
  
Gwen curtsied again and took Norrington's arm. "Thank you, sir. We were on our way back to Will Turner's shop."  
  
Markson offered his arm to Annamaria with a broad wink. She inclined her head with the air of a queen accepting homage from a supplicant and took his arm, following the Commodore and Gwen down the street.  
  
--  
  
Elizabeth sat at her dressing table while her maid arranged her hair. Moodily she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her marriage wasn't working out the way she'd hoped it would. It wasn't that she and Will didn't love each other, they did. The differences in their backgrounds, however, was causing some strain. Living with her father wasn't helping. Governor Swann was fond enough of Will, but he kept trying to make him over into the aristocrat that he'd hoped Elizabeth would marry. Will was determined to remain true to himself. Unfortunately, the goals of both men were unrealistic.  
  
Will could never become an aristocrat, no matter how many fine suits of clothing he had, no matter how carefully he was taught the manners of elite society. The aristocrats of Jamaica kept careful track of how blue the blood was that ran in everyone's veins. Casual gossip over teacups acquainted every man, woman and child with everyone else's pedigree. Only wealth could sweeten the 'taint' of common blood, and Will was not wealthy.  
  
What Will was, was honorable, honest and hard working. Unfortunately for him, these traits didn't compare with spotless bloodlines in the eyes of most of Jamaica's elite. Elizabeth was aware that many of her acquaintances considered that she had debased herself to marry a tradesman who didn't even have the saving grace of money. She'd known that going in; she'd married Will with her eyes open. What she hadn't realized is that Will hadn't known it. He hadn't been able to ignore the snide comments and veiled insults that came his way as the 'interloper' who'd muscled his was into their presence. Especially, Elizabeth was sure, since many of the insults were about her. She'd hoped that the comments would eventually die down, but it had been a year now and they hadn't. Will's frequent morning duels only helped fuel the gossip mills.  
  
She smiled vaguely at the maid who'd finished with her hair, and absently fastened earrings to the lobes of her ears. What she needed to do was get the two of them out of her father's house and into a home of their own. The trouble was, while Elizabeth didn't mind living in a more modest way, she also didn't want to live in a loft over a blacksmith's shop. Elizabeth had money of her own - an income inherited from her mother. She'd talked to Will about using it to purchase a house for them, but he wouldn't hear of it. He was too proud to live off her money. Living in her father's house was the biggest concession he'd been able to make. She smiled ruefully. That was another difference between him and many aristocrats. For many of them, the size of a girl's dowry was the sole attraction when choosing a bride. She respected Will's opinion, but it did make things more difficult. 


	8. Chapter 8

Passage to St. Kitts  
  
Chapter 8  
  
*Author's Note ** This story has only been reviewed once so far (Thank you Poppy Brook), so I'm feeling like I'm sending it out into the void. Please let me know that SOMEONE is reading it!  
  
"Very good!" said Will, as the fencing lesson continued in the blacksmith shop. "Block with the edge of the blade, it's stronger than the flat."  
  
Joseph grinned. "So, you will teach me to fight like you did this morning?"  
  
"Certainly, if that's what you want," Will replied. "It takes a long time to master the art, but if you work at it there is no reason you can't become proficient. You've made an excellent start, Joseph. You've a talent for swordplay."  
  
"Thank you, sir," Joseph said.  
  
Will poured water into two mugs and handed one to Joseph. "Whew! That was a work out. We can do some more tonight if you like. It's easier to learn using a fencing foil, then you don't have to worry about accidentally hurting your opponent. Perhaps I should bring some foils down here."  
  
Joseph took a long drink of water. "That woman, Annamaria. You said she was not a slave?"  
  
Will stoked up the fire in the forge. "Yes. She was a slave when she was a child. No longer."  
  
"How does a slave become free?" Joseph asked in a rush, as if afraid the mere question would bring trouble down on him.  
  
Will looked at him consideringly. "Annamaria ran away. She was lucky enough to not be caught, and those of us who care about her make certain she stays safe. She usually stays aboard ship, it's safer for her that way." Will turned back to the fire. "If you are thinking of running away, Joseph, please don't. I'd hate to see what would happen to you if they caught you. When you've found the place you want to be, I'll free you. In the meantime, I need the help here in the shop. Besides," he smiled with a roguish smile reminiscent of a certain pirate captain, "If you run off I won't be able to finish teaching you to use a sword."  
  
Joseph still looked troubled. "Why would you free me?"  
  
Will shrugged uncomfortably. "I don't like the thought of owning another person."  
  
After a moment of silence, Joseph spoke again. "So, that Annamaria. Is she your woman?"  
  
"Good God, no!" said Will. "My wife is enough for me, I don't need a mistress as well." He glanced slyly at Joseph out of the corner of his eye. "I don't believe she has anyone in her life at the moment." The fire was stoked to Will's satisfaction and he shoved several long pieces of metal into it to heat. "Here," he said. "Let me show you how to make a nail."  
  
--  
  
Elizabeth stepped into her father's study, untying the ribbons of her hat as she did so. "Oh, there you are, Elizabeth," said Governor Swann. He was sitting at his desk, leafing through a heavy bible. "I've just been updating the family bible." He picked up a letter. "Your Aunt Julia has just given birth to another son."  
  
Elizabeth tossed her hat onto a chair and came forward, taking the letter from her father's hand. "Another one? How many does this make, five?"  
  
"Six, actually," said the Governor. "She's named this one Roland, after our brother."  
  
"Roland?" asked Elizabeth. "I don't recall an that you had a brother named Roland."  
  
"Yes, see?" The Governor pointed to the entry in the family tree. "He was a few years younger than me. Died about the same time you were born."  
  
"Really?" asked Elizabeth. "What became of him?"  
  
"Oh, he'd traveled out here to the West Indies. He was quite the adventurer, you know. He died in a duel. I'd received a letter from him dated a few weeks before his death telling me he'd found the love of his life. Then the next I'd heard was that he'd been killed. Apparently the lady's relatives didn't approve of him." The Governor smiled. "He was always a bit of a rake." He signed and shook his head. "Has it really been twenty years?"  
  
--  
  
Commodore Norrington stretched lazily. A glance at the porthole in his cabin showed the time to be very early morning, shortly after dawn. Tossing back the blanket, Norrington rose. Pouring a small amount of water into a basin he washed his face and hands, then got out his shaving kit. He was nearly finished shaving when the call of "Sails!" was heard. With a slight frown, Norrington rubbed a towel over his face, and hastened to dress. He was buttoning his waistcoat when he heard the cannon fire. Quickly he shoved his arms into his coat, slung his sword belt over his shoulder and jammed his wig and hat on his head. Rushing to the helm he found Gillette screaming orders at the crew. Quickly Norrington took stock of the situation. The Spanish ship approached rapidly on the starboard side. Her guns spoke again, and the Defender shuddered as several balls hit her side with a sickening crash.  
  
"We're taking on water!" shouted a sailor. It was true, the cannons had punctured the side of the ship and water was pouring into the hold.  
  
"We're going to sink!" gasped Gillette.  
  
"Abandon ship!" shouted Norrington. "Make ready the boats! All hands on deck!" The crew rushed from their stations to the deck, and feverishly worked to lower the boats. Norrington and Gillette directed the efforts as best they could in the confusion. The Defender was sinking rapidly, the deck listing at a treacherous angle. Finally, the two officers were the last aboard and helped lower the last boat into the water. "Go!" shouted Norrington to Gillette.  
  
"But Commodore. what about you!" he shouted back.  
  
"GO! That's an order!" commanded Norrington, grasping Gillette by the shoulder and shoving him from the rail into the water next to the boat, where he was quickly hauled aboard by the sailors. Norrington looked around toward the Spanish ship, which was coming nearer. He was about to jump into the water near the longboat himself, when the Defender groaned loudly. A loud snapping was heard as the weight of the water rushing into the hold crushed the support timbers that made up the framework of the ship. Norrington was flung to the deck, and rolled down the tilting deck against the rail, which was already partially submerged. Seeing no choice, he dove into the water and swam as hard as he could away from the ship. When he was about a fifty yards from the Defender, he judged it safe to stop and collect his bearings. Grasping a large wooden crate, which was floating nearby, he looked around for the boats holding the Defender's crew. But the boat that was within six feet of him did not belong to the Defender. Norrington did not understand the Spanish words directed at him, but the pistol leveled at his head needed no translation. Obeying, he allowed himself to be hauled into the boat. 


	9. Chapter 9

Passage to St. Kitts  
  
Chapter 9  
  
The sound of the cannon woke Antonia. She could see nothing from the small porthole in her tiny cabin, so she dressed quickly and went up to the deck. "Captain Natalez, what is happening?" she called when she came closer.  
  
"A British military ship, Senorita " replied the Captain. "She will be no match for us."  
  
As Antonia watched in horror, the British ship shuddered and began to list over. From the frantic activity she could see, the crew was abandoning ship. "What will happen to them?"  
  
The Captain shrugged. "The ones in the boats will most likely get away. It is not worth our while to chase them down. That man, however," he pointed to a the last man aboard, "is most likely the senior officer. He, we will try to pick up." As they watched, the man fell, then dove into the water and began to swim. As Antonia watched, a boat was lowered and the Spanish sailors rowed toward the swimming man, and dragged him aboard.  
  
Several minutes later, the British man was brought aboard the Aldonza and ushered to the Captain, hands bound behind him. "Good day to you, sir," said Natalez in English. "I see from your uniform that you are a Commodore, are you not?"  
  
"Commodore James Norrington, from Fort Charles in Port Royal, sir" Replied Norrington. "May I have the honor of knowing your name?"  
  
"I am Captain Miguel Natalez, of the Aldonza," said Natalez. "Where were you headed?" He paused, waiting for Norrington to answer. He did not. "Are there other British ships in the area?" Again, Norrington said nothing. "What was the purpose of your voyage?" After another pause, Natalez continued. "If you do not talk to me voluntarily, Commodore, we will have to do it another way. Perhaps you may like to think about that for a while." He turned to the sailors holding Norrington's arms. "Take him to the brig."  
  
As the men ushered Norrington away, he came abreast of Antonia, who stood watching. Checking his stride, he bowed slightly. "Senorita," he murmured politely.  
  
--  
  
A few days out from Port Royal, the wind had died down to a slight breeze, leaving the Black Pearl to slow to a lazy crawl. Taking advantage of the calmness of the sea, Will and Joseph were on the main deck having another fencing lesson, avidly watched by the rest of the Pearl's crew. All of them knew Will's reputation as a swordsman, and all were eager to see him in action. Before long, the private lesson between Will and Joseph had evolved into a large group lesson. Jack and Annamaria joined in, helping to instruct. Elizabeth and Gwen cheered as Will and Annamaria gave a showy demonstration of some of the finer points of fencing.  
  
Joseph waited until Annamaria stepped away from the group for a moment to take a long swallow of water. "Miss Annamaria," he said. "Your skill is formidable. How did you learn?"  
  
She splashed some water into her hand and rubbed in on the back of her neck. "I learned several years ago from the Captain of the pirate ship I found myself on. I was grateful he was willing to teach a woman."  
  
"Tell me about it," Joseph requested.  
  
Annamaria looked at him, frowning. "Why do you want to know?"  
  
"I'm very curious about you," Joseph replied. "Master Will told me you were a slave as a child. How do you come to be here?"  
  
Annamaria frowned again. "That is hardly idle conversation."  
  
"Miss Annamaria, I am a slave," Joseph said simply. "I was brought to this land when I was a boy. This," he gestured at the ship and the sea, "is the closest thing to freedom I've seen in many years. Tell me about it. Tell me how you came to be here."  
  
Annamaria studied him. The sun gleamed on his dark skin and highlighted the clean sharp lines of his face. His dark eyes showed an intelligence and curiosity not usually found in those who were resigned to their fates. "So you do not intend to be a slave all your days, do you?"  
  
"No," said Joseph. "One day I will be free. Master Will said he would free me. If so, I will be grateful. If not, I will find my own way. I will not die a slave."  
  
"What will you do?" she asked, curious in her turn.  
  
"I don't know," he replied. "I must learn many things yet. Master Will has taught me some smithing. I have also learned some sailing since being aboard this ship. I must learn to fight like the white men so I may keep myself safe. For many years I have known nothing save planting and harvesting sugar cane. I need to know much more in order to be a free man." He looked steadily at Annamaria. "So you see, Miss Annamaria, I am most curious about a woman who has made her own way, found her own freedom and kept herself safe."  
  
Annamaria regarded him. Maybe she could tell him, maybe he would understand.  
  
"Captain! Small boats ahead on the port side!" called the lookout. The moment passed, and Annamaria went to the helm.  
  
"Turn to port!" Jack ordered Gibbs who was at the helm. "Pick them up."  
  
Will leaned out. "Jack, it looks like British military."  
  
"Of course it is," replied Jack. "No one else wears that ghastly shade of red."  
  
As the boats drew nearer, Elizabeth gasped. "Captain Gillette!"  
  
Indeed it was. Gillette and the 23 other crewmen who had been in the two lifeboats climbed aboard the Pearl. "Captain Sparrow," said Gillette, bowing slightly. "Thank you for rescuing myself and my men. We've been adrift for two days, since the Defender went down."  
  
"The Defender went down?" asked Elizabeth incredulously. "What happened?"  
  
"We encountered a Spanish ship, the Aldonza," replied Gillette. "We were unfortunately, not a match for it."  
  
"Wasn't Commodore Norrington aboard that ship?" asked Will anxiously.  
  
"Yes, Mr. Turner, he was. We saw the Spanish pluck him out of the water. He is now in their hands."  
  
"Captain Gillette," interrupted Jack. "It seems we have much to talk about. Gibbs, please see to the disposition of the Captain's men, string hammocks in the hold if you need to. Cotton, please escort Captain Gillette to my cabin. I will join him there directly. Annamaria, take the helm. Will, come with me."  
  
"What are you going to do?" asked Will.  
  
"Not sure yet," Jack replied. "Though it is a bit of a lark having Gillette in my debt. It's the first time I've ever spoken to the man without him making some damned sarcastic remark."  
  
--  
  
Norrington raised his head as footsteps sounded on the stairs nearby. To his astonishment, it was the girl he'd seen on deck before they'd brought him here. She carried a bowl of some sort of soup and a large hunk of bread. "You must be hungry, sir," she said in accented English. "I have brought you some supper."  
  
Norrington rose and bowed. "Thank you, Senorita. That is most kind of you." He felt at a distinct disadvantage. For a man who prided himself on his neat and precise appearance, his present state of dishevelment was disconcerting. His hat and wig were both lost during his swim, and his own close-cropped dark hair was disordered. The spotless white breeches and stockings were now a dingy greenish tan from the seawater, as was the linen shirt that now hung open around his throat. His cravat was gone, his waistcoat stained, and his coat torn. His sword had, of course, been taken from him.  
  
Antonia looked down. "I am sorry, sir, for the way you have been treated. I wish it were in my power to aid you more than this," she said offering the bowl.  
  
Norrington took it. "Do not trouble yourself, Senorita. Do you perhaps know where this ship is headed?"  
  
"Hispaniola. First to Port-au-Prince, I believe, then to San Domingo. My future husband awaits me there," she replied with a touch of bitterness.  
  
"Congratulations on your upcoming nuptials then, miss," he said.  
  
"Do not congratulate me, sir," she replied. "I have never met my fiancé, and have no idea if congratulations or condolences are in order."  
  
"Never met him?" asked Norrington disbelievingly.  
  
Antonia shrugged. "My father and I do not enjoy a loving relationship. It seems he wanted to be rid of me."  
  
"Your father..." prompted Norrington.  
  
"Don Bartolome de Salazar," said Antonia promptly. "My name is Antonia."  
  
"Commodore James Norrington, ma'am, at your service," he introduced himself. "You are not traveling alone, are you?"  
  
"No, my future brother-in-law and his wife came to Portobello to fetch me," Antonia said. She went on, a slight smile on her face. "Unfortunately, Senora Lucia finds sea travel very taxing. She has been most unwell. And Senor Tomas spends most of his time with the Captain."  
  
"The younger brother is married before the elder?" asked Norrington.  
  
"No, my future husband is a widower, I understand. And since Senor Tomas is forty at least, I fear Senor Valera is not a young man."  
  
Norrington frowned. "How old are you, Miss de Salazar, if I may be so bold?"  
  
Antonia smiled. "I am twenty, sir. I must return to my duenna, so I beg you excuse me."  
  
Norrington bowed. "It was a pleasure to speak with you, Senorita. I hope you will be able to visit me again."  
  
**Thanks Eledhwen & Yessina - glad to know someone's out there! 


	10. Chapter 10

Passage to St. Kitts  
  
Chapter 10  
  
"Gillette, I don't know exactly what it is you want me to do about it," said Jack in exasperation. "You don't know where the Spaniard was headed, you don't know where she's likely to be now, and may I remind you, we didn't expect an additional two dozen men aboard when we took on supplies."  
  
Gillette paced around the cabin like a caged tiger. "You can't just leave the Commodore in Spanish hands!"  
  
Jack rolled his eyes and looked at Will. "I suppose you think we ought to drop everything and rush to Norrington's rescue too, eh?"  
  
Will sat calmly in his chair. "Well, Jack, hunting down Spanish ships is what you do, isn't it? Besides," he said as he got to his feet and moved to the door. "Don't you owe him a good turn after what he did for you a year ago?" Will stepped from the cabin and closed the door behind him.  
  
Jack glared at the door, then at Gillette (who very wisely remained silent.), then muttered to himself. "I hate it when he's right."  
  
--  
  
Antonia sat at the Captain's table for dinner, her eyes downcast. These meals were an ordeal. It had been made abundantly clear to her that Senor Tomas and Senora Lucia were resentful of her. When Rodrigo Valera's first wife had passed away three years previously, they had felt sure that Tomas would inherit Rodrigo's wealth, since the couple had been childless. Now, Rodrigo was marrying a young girl, who might well provide Rodrigo with an heir.  
  
Lucia was a stern woman of middle years with graying hair and matronly figure. She wore a dark red gown, severely high to the throat, with a jeweled cross on a gold chain around her neck. She cast a glance at Antonia's fashionably low cut gown and sniffed.  
  
One of the sailors served the meal, setting the platters down on the table and lighting the candles. Before leaving, he said quietly to Antonia, "Cook wanted me to tell you the prisoner's meal is ready for you to take down whenever you desire, Senorita."  
  
"It isn't seemly for you to deliver food to an enemy prisoner," said Lucia disapprovingly. "I do not understand why you do it."  
  
"I have very few duties, ma'am," said Antonia, "and it is helpful to the crew for me to take this responsibility."  
  
"Senorita de Salazar also speaks English," said the Captain. "Therefore she is able to relay any messages that the prisoner has for me. I am grateful for the Senorita's assistance."  
  
Unable to forbid it because of the Captain's approval, Lucia bit her lip. "I daresay your intended husband would not approve," was the best she could do.  
  
Antonia cast about for some neutral comment she could make. "Senor Tomas, could you tell me some more about your home in Santo Domingo? I look forward to seeing it." Tomas launched into a tedious description of the plantation on Hispaniola. He and his wife also lived in the plantation house, a fact that filled Antonia with dread. Lucia had already announced that since Antonia was so young and inexperienced, that she would continue to act as mistress of the house. Antonia was grimly certain that she would spend the rest of her days being made to feel as if she was an upper servant or a poor relation in a house where she should have been mistress. She stared down at her hands folded in her lap, and rubbed the gold swan ring with her thumb. Wouldn't Senora Lucia be shocked if she knew what this signified?  
  
--  
  
Annamaria stood at the helm as the Pearl sliced swiftly through the waves. Joseph came up next to her. "We've set a new course for St. Thomas," she said. "It's a bit closer than St. Kitts."  
  
"Why are we doing that?" asked Joseph.  
  
Annamaria shrugged. "I think Jack has decided to hunt down the Aldonza, but he wants to get rid of the Defender's crew first.  
  
"It is much more crowded now," agreed Joseph. Not only were there now two dozen extra people aboard, but also the former pirates and the regular military sailors didn't mix well. There had been a few altercations and some heated words exchanged, which kept Gibbs and Gillette busy keeping the peace.  
  
"Mr. Carey," called Gwen as she came up on deck. A large man in a bedraggled red coat turned at her voice. "I have that ointment for your sunburn. Please step into the shade," she said, gesturing him to a sheltered area of the deck, out of sight of most of the ship. "Hold still a moment." Reaching out, she applied the cream to his cheeks and nose. "There." She smiled. "The next time you spend two days adrift in a small boat you must be sure to keep track of your hat."  
  
"Many thanks, ma'am," said the soldier, taking her hand. "I am much indebted to your kindness." He lowered his head and pressed a kiss on her hand.  
  
Gwen pulled gently, but the soldier hung on. "Think nothing of it, sir," she said a touch nervously. "I am the ship's physician after all." She stepped back as far as she could and attempted again to pull her hand from his grasp. "If you will excuse me, sir, I have other duties I need to see to."  
  
"Why the hurry?" purred Carey, pulling her closer to him. "Why not spend some time with me, lass?"  
  
Gwen shoved at him without result. "Sir, release me at once. Captain Sparrow will."  
  
Carey interrupted her, "Captain Sparrow can share, I daresay." He pinned her against the bulkhead and lowered his head to kiss her. Turning her head at the last moment, Gwen cried out. "Shut up, you stupid wench," he snapped, slapping her soundly across the face.  
  
At Gwen's cry, Joseph's head swung around. Catching sight of the edge of Gwen's skirt around the corner, he strode toward it. Seeing Gwen struggling in the man's arms, Joseph grabbed the soldier by the arm and hauled him away from Gwen into the main area of the deck, then bunching his fist, slammed it into the Carey's mouth. Carey went down in a heap. The other redcoats, seeing one of their number felled by a black man, leapt to their fellow's defense. The Pearl's crew, seeing several of the soldiers jump Joseph, ran to his aid. Annamaria abandoned the helm and ran forward, pulling out her pistol as she did so. Firing it into the air, she shouted, "Hold! Everyone hold!"  
  
Hearing the gunshot, Jack hurried out of his cabin, followed closely by Gillette, Will and Elizabeth. "What is going on here," he thundered.  
  
Carey struggled to his feet. "That darky hit me!" he declared. "I demand to see him punished!"  
  
Will moved forward and helped Joseph to his feet. "What on earth happened?"  
  
Joseph got up, wiping blood from a cut above his eye. "That man attacked Miss Tracy."  
  
All eyes swung to Gwen, who was leaning against the bulkhead, dabbing blood from her own mouth.  
  
"She's just a doxy," blustered Carey. "Laying down with a pirate! What is all the fuss about?"  
  
Jack became deadly still, his hand gripping his sword hilt so hard his knuckles turned white. Elizabeth, seeing this, grasped his sword arm and held it as tightly as she could. "Captain Gillette," she said quickly. "Get your man out of here."  
  
Gillette, seeing the murderous look on Jack's face, grabbed Carey by the arm and hustled him from the deck. "I'll lock him in your brig, shall I?" he called over his shoulder. "We'll discuss this later."  
  
Gwen pushed between two men and ran from the deck, disappearing into the Captain's cabin. Jack yanked his arm from Elizabeth's hold and strode after her.  
  
"Cotton, take the helm," ordered Annamaria. "Put us back on course." She looked around at the gathered crowd. "Everyone, back to work!" She went to Joseph and checked him over quickly. "Superficial," she stated. "Gwen probably has something for the headache you probably have, but I don't dare go in there now and see."  
  
Will clapped him on the shoulder. "You're a good man, Joseph," he said.  
  
Joseph looked uneasily at the Captain's cabin. "She'll be all right, won't she?"  
  
"He won't hurt her, if that's what you mean," Annamaria said. "In fact it'll probably be good to clear the air a bit. It's about time he learned what she's been putting up with. Come down to my cabin, Joseph. I may have something there to put on this cut."  
  
--  
  
Jack marched into the cabin and slammed the door behind him. Gwen eyed him cautiously, holding a damp cloth to her lip. He threw his hat at a chair, and then dropped his coat and sword belt onto it. Leaning on the back of the chair he said in a carefully level voice. "Please explain to me what happened just now."  
  
Gwen sank into a chair and spoke quietly, her eyes downcast. "You may not have noticed, but Mr. Carey has very fair skin. He lost his hat when he abandoned ship, and after two days adrift on the ocean he had a dreadful sunburn on his face. I told him I had something that would help, and I got some cream to put on it. I asked him to step into the shade, and I applied the cream to his face. He took my hand to thank me, but when I tried to pull away, he wouldn't let me go. He tried to kiss me, and when I tried to scream he hit me. Joseph heard. And the rest you know."  
  
"Did he not know that you are my woman?"  
  
Gwen bit her lip and answered reluctantly. "He seemed to feel you wouldn't mind sharing."  
  
Abruptly Jack turned away and started pacing. Grabbing a ceramic goblet off the table he flung it against the wall so hard that it shattered. "I'll kill him," he muttered.  
  
"Jack, no," said Gwen, rising and going to him. "You can't kill him because of me, I won't let you."  
  
"You can't stop me," he snapped. "You're mine, Gwen. And I WON'T share. Not with him, not with anyone, do you understand that?'  
  
Gwen bit back her own rising temper. "Jack, calm down. Don't lose control because some idiot thinks that because I'm willing to be with you, that I'm willing to be with anyone." He turned his head away from her. "You don't think I encouraged him, do you?' He was silent. "Jack, you don't really think.." Gwen turned away. "So. You think I'm a whore as well."  
  
"What?" At that Jack turned around. "No, love, of course not."  
  
"You do. I can't believe it." Gwen pressed her hands to her flaming cheeks. "I've endured insult after insult because of our relationship, and I've shrugged it off because I thought that deep down, you really did love me."  
  
"Gwen, listen to me," Jack began, but Gwen cut him off.  
  
"Don't touch me," she said backing away. "I won't be your whore anymore, Jack Sparrow." She rushed for the door, but he beat her to it, turning the key and removing it from the lock.  
  
"You're not going anywhere, lass. Like I said a moment ago, you're mine and you'll stay with me."  
  
"I won't stay with a man who thinks me a whore."  
  
"You're not a whore, love."  
  
"Then what am I?"  
  
"You're my woman, Gwen. Mine and mine alone. I know whores, luv. Before I met you I knew quite a few of them. Believe me, I can compare. I can't let you go, love, not now that I know what it's like to be with a woman who really cares for me. It would be like losing half of myself." He drew her against him. "I'm sorry, darling. I have a filthy temper." 


	11. Chapter 11

Passage to St. Kitts  
  
Chapter 11  
  
Joseph sat on Annamaria's bunk as she daubed some ointment into the cut on his brow. "There, that should help." She wiped her fingers on a towel and sat down on the bunk a little distance away from him. "I'm sure both Jack and Gwen will thank you when next they see you."  
  
Joseph regarded her steadily. "It's happened to you, hasn't it?"  
  
She looked away. "What has?"  
  
"Some man, forcing his attentions on you."  
  
"Man? Try men," she said bitterly. "You know what happens to pretty slave girls, don't you?"  
  
"I do," he said quietly. "Tell me."  
  
--  
  
Norrington looked up as Antonia came down the stairs. He'd come to anticipate her visits. She came to see him at least once, sometimes twice a day when her future sister-in-law did not need her attention. "Good morning, Miss de Salazar. I hope you slept well?"  
  
"Indeed, Commodore," she replied with a smile. "I dare hope you did as well?"  
  
"As well as can be expected," he answered, "although, I could wish for a softer bed," he said with a smile, indicating the thin pallet on the floor of his cell.  
  
Louder footsteps came down the stairs. A moment later Captain Natalez appeared. "Ah, Miss de Salazar. I'm sure the Commodore will excuse you." Antonia curtsied briefly and hurried away. "Well, Norrington, Have you decided to be reasonable?"  
  
"What do you mean by reasonable, Captain?" asked Norrington mildly.  
  
"I'm interested in knowing the strength of the Royal Navy in the Caribbean, of course. Tell me, how many ships are based on Jamaica?"  
  
"One less than there used to be," said Norrington dryly.  
  
"How many on St. Kitts? Or Antigua?" Captain Natalez went on. "I believe the Dauntless is your usual ship, is it not? Why were you on the Defender?" Norrington said nothing. Natalez sighed. "Ah well. I was afraid you'd be difficult." Turning slightly he called, "Pedro!" A large man appeared. "The Commodore is reluctant to speak to me. Loosen his tongue a bit, will you?" He unlocked the cell and let Pedro in, locking it again behind him.  
  
--  
  
Jack lay in bed staring at the ceiling. Gwen lay sleeping, her head on his shoulder, her red-brown hair trailing across his chest. The sheets and blankets were tangled around their naked limbs. Jack held her to him, thinking hard. As he'd said to her earlier, she was his. Not because he'd taken her, but because she'd given herself to him. Freely. Generously. He'd never known unconditional affection before, not since his mother died when he was a boy. He'd never realized how much more it meant to be with someone who loved him, both in bed and out. She'd given him so much. Had he given her enough in return? Even just now, during their argument and the lovemaking that followed, he'd avoided saying he loved her. Did he love her? He wasn't sure. What was love supposed to feel like? All he knew was that the thought of losing her made him feel almost physically sick. And the thought of some bastard putting his hands on her...he forced the thought away, taking a deep breath. "Don't go getting riled up again, mate," he muttered to himself.  
  
Gwen stirred. "Mmmm, Jack?"  
  
"Shush, love. Just talking to meself. After all, I'm mad you know." She smiled sleepily and settled back down. Jack returned to his thoughts. He'd always been aware that many of the respectable citizens of Port Royal preferred not to associate with Gwen. Hell, they didn't associate with him either, and no loss felt. Jack Sparrow had never been precisely respectable. Gwen had, however. Did the loss of her respectability matter to her a great deal? It wasn't something he'd thought about before now. He hadn't been aware of how many incidents there had been, how many insults she'd been obliged to ignore. Damned if he'd let Cotton escort her anymore. Either that or he'd need to learn to translate what that idiot parrot said. He wondered how many of the crew knew more about this than he did. Drat the woman, she'd probably been forbidding his own crewmen to tell him things they bloody well ought to have. That was going to have to change.  
  
What should he do about Carey? The man had assaulted his woman. If he'd been a pirate, Jack would have no compunction in killing him outright. Unfortunately, the man was a British soldier and any punishment was really under Gillette's jurisdiction. Yet, if Jack did nothing, he'd lose face before his own crew - not a healthy thing for a pirate - or privateer for that matter. In addition, he knew his crew adored Gwen. Not only did she treat their physical ailments, from wounds to illness, but also she took time to know each one of them. If he did nothing to punish the man who'd assaulted her they'd be outraged. He'd have to talk to Gillette in the morning. The beginnings of an idea tickled the edge of his mind. Hmmmm, maybe he'd take a page from Will Turner's book.  
  
--  
  
Joseph sat back on Annamaria's bunk, leaning against the wall. "So after they brought you back, what happened then?"  
  
Annamaria shrugged. "More of the same. The master whipped me bloody. I was returned to work in the kitchen, but spent my nights locked in a shed outside rather than in the house. The women in the kitchen were told that if I ran away again they'd be the ones to suffer, so I didn't try it again for four years. The master made me available to any of his guests who wanted a woman, and occasionally to one or another of the male slaves who pleased him for one reason or another. I learned that if I didn't fight, it usually didn't hurt. My mother died when I was sixteen. She was pregnant again, and something was wrong from the beginning. She was already weak when she went into labor. The baby died too. After that, I knew there was nothing to keep me there."  
  
"How did you get away?"  
  
"One of the master's guests fell asleep when he was finished with me one night. It was late, and the house was quiet. Because I'd been in his charge rather than the women in the kitchen, I thought they might escape punishment. I'd stolen his purse, so I had money. I made my way down to the docks and stowed away on a merchant ship. I was lucky again. No one discovered me and I slipped ashore when the ship docked in Florida. I signed onto another merchant ship as a cook's assistant."  
  
"How did you get from a cook's assistant to a pirate?"  
  
Annamaria smiled. "Accidentally. Pirates took the merchant ship one day. The Captain of the pirate ship took a fancy to me, and took me captive. I was his mistress for two years. He's the one who taught me to fight. After we parted ways I signed on to a number of different ships, mostly pirate ships. The biggest problem I've always had, though, is convincing the men that I am not only as good a sailor as they are, but that I'm not interested in a roll in the hay."  
  
Joseph replied, "I can see why you are not interested in men. Have you never met a man whom you cared for?"  
  
She shrugged. "I was fond enough of old Captain Jessup, but shed no tears when we parted. I'm very fond of Jack Sparrow and Will Turner, but as friends only."  
  
"What you need, Annamaria, is a man who sees you not only for a beautiful woman, but a first class sailor and fighter. A man who admires the person you've become, who appreciates your strength." Joseph spoke in a low, almost hypnotic voice.  
  
Annamaria shook her head slightly. Was he trying to seduce her? "I have no interest in looking for a man," she said defensively.  
  
"No, why should you?" he said, "You don't need a man to protect you."  
  
"Right," she said uneasily. "What would I want a man for?"  
  
"This, perhaps," he suggested, leaning forward and kissing her. He did not seek to pull her to him, nor to hold her in any way. His hand stroked her cheek and neck, cupping lightly around the nape. His mouth was warm and sweet, but not demanding. He pulled away and stroked her cheek again. "I don't want to compel you, Annamaria. I want you to come to me. Not because you feel you must, but because you want to. I would never hurt you." He kissed her again and rose, leaving her cabin and shutting the door quietly behind him. Annamaria sat where she was, unable to move, staring after him. 


	12. Chapter 12

Passage to St. Kitts  
  
Chapter 12  
  
The next morning dawned calm and bright. Perfect weather for what Jack had in mind. The crews of both the Black Pearl and the Defender gathered on the main deck to watch. Gillette had protested Jack's plan, but in the end had acquiesced. Two husky members of the Pearl's crew held Carey's arms. Jack swaggered forward into center stage. "You all know that this man," he indicated Carey, "insulted my lady. And for this insult, I demand satisfaction." Taking out a pair of leather gloves, he strolled up to Carey, adding an additional swish to his stride, and slapped him with the gloves across the face. "Are you man enough to take up the challenge?"  
  
Carey's fair skin flushed with rage. "Aye, I'll meet you, you filthy knave!"  
  
Jack grinned in feral satisfaction and flourished the gloves. "Ah, excellent! I propose that we meet immediately." He turned to Will, who was standing, arms folded against the rail. "Mr. Turner, sir! Will you do me the honor of being my second?"  
  
Will raised his eyebrow. Jack was in rare form this morning. "The honor is mine, Captain Sparrow," he answered formally. "Mr. Carey, have you a second?"  
  
Carey looked over at one of the sailors who nodded. "Jensen will act for me."  
  
Will nodded. "Very good. Mr. Jensen, shall we measure out the field?" If Jack wanted to do this with meticulous and foppish formality, Will would oblige. Carefully he and Jensen paced off the clear space on the deck. The crew of the Pearl watched in anticipation, snickering among themselves. Will distinctly saw money changing hands. He was sure the crew wasn't betting on the outcome of the fight, only how long it would take Jack to completely humiliate his opponent.  
  
Returning to the center of the cleared area, Will announced the size of the field, and requested the two combatants to step forward. Carey stomped forward, holding his sword ready. Jack minced forward, and bowed elaborately before drawing his weapon. Will drew his own sword and held it between the two opponents. "Are you ready gentlemen?" With Carey's brusque nod and Jack's precisely inclined head, Will raised his sword out of the way and stepped back. "Then do your battle, gentlemen."  
  
Carey attacked at once, and Jack neatly parried his blade. Again Carey attacked, and again Jack parried the thrust without going on the offensive. Elizabeth edged over to where Gwen was watching and asked uneasily "He's not going to kill him, is he?"  
  
Gwen shook her head slightly. "I don't think so. He just wants to make him look like a fool."  
  
Elizabeth smiled. "He's already done that." Spying a bit of lace peeking out of Gwen's bodice, she twitched the handkerchief out before Gwen could stop her. "Captain Sparrow," she called dulcetly, "a favor from your lady." She presented the handkerchief with a flourish.  
  
Laughter gleamed in Jack's eyes, and between parries of almost textbook preciseness, he took the lace-trimmed handkerchief from Elizabeth's hand and pressed it reverently to his lips. "Thank you, my dear," he called, waving the handkerchief foppishly. The sight was too much for the gravity of most of the Pearl's crew, and they collapsed in laughter. Will, trying to maintain the seriousness expected of a second, was unable to keep a straight face and had to turn away. Most of the Defender's crew was fighting laughter as well. Carey, knowing himself to be the butt of the joke turned even redder, and redoubled the ferocity of his attacks.  
  
Jack merrily blocked thrust after thrust, skipping nimbly over the deck. His sword slipped under Carey's guard, and a thin red line appeared on the front of Carey's shirt. "Oh!" he said in feigned concern. "You aren't hurt are you?" When Carey merely growled and swung his sword again, Jack merely said in false relief "Oh, good," waved his handkerchief and continued fighting. By this time the majority of the spectators, privateers and military alike, were laughing so hard tears were streaming down their faces.  
  
"For God's sake make an end, Jack!" called Gwen, laughing uncontrollably. "We can't endure much more!"  
  
"For you, my love," called Jack extravagantly, "I would conquer the world!" Flourishing the handkerchief, he leapt forward and pressed the attack, his sword flashing in the sunlight. Carey parried as best he could, but the deadly point seemed to be everywhere at once. Four times the point flicked over his face, before he felt a ribbon of fire burn through his shoulder. Dropping his sword, Carey fell senseless to the deck.  
  
Will walked over and looked down at Jack's fallen opponent. Out of the corner of his eye he could see money changing hands again as bets were paid off. He glared at the four neat lines on the man's face; two parallel cuts on each side. "You had to do me one better, didn't you?" he asked disgustedly.  
  
Jack flourished the handkerchief again. "Three better, my dear boy. A nice concept, but it needed a bit of improvement." He wiped his sword on Carey's coat and carefully sheathed it, then fell to his knees in front of Gwen, extravagantly taking her hand and kissing it before pressing the handkerchief back into it. "For your gentle inspiration, darling, my undying thanks."  
  
"Get up you idiot," said Gwen blushing furiously and pulling her hand away.  
  
Jack grinned wolfishly and got to his feet, leaned forward and kissed her on the lips. "As my lady commands." He kissed her again and said in a more serious tone. "You'll look at his shoulder, won't you luv?" With a final grin tossed over his shoulder, Captain Jack Sparrow strode off. "Back to work, mates! The entertainment is done for today."  
  
--  
  
Cautiously, Antonia crept down the stairs to the brig. Norrington lay within the cell, his face turned away. "Commodore?" she said tentatively. "Commodore, are you all right?" She stifled a gasp as Norrington turned his head her way. One of his eyes was swollen shut, and his lip was split, trickling blood down his chin. "Dear lord, what have they done to you?"  
  
Norrington raised himself painfully onto his elbow, and tried to smile reassuringly at the horrified girl on the far side of the cell bars. "Friendly persuasion. Think nothing of it Miss de Salazar. As far as coercion goes, this is fairly mild."  
  
"Mild?" she said indignantly. "You look dreadful! And from how you're moving I wouldn't be surprised if they'd broken your ribs!"  
  
"Cracked, only." Said Norrington. "Please forgive me for not rising."  
  
"You had better not!" snapped Antonia, suddenly out of patience with him. "You wait right there!" Turning, she ran up the stairs.  
  
The Commodore chuckled weakly. What a ridiculous thing to say to a man locked in a cell.  
  
It seemed only a moment later when Antonia was back. She held a basket in one hand, and a ring of keys in the other. "I stole these from the Captain's cabin, " she said matter-of-factly as she unlocked the door.  
  
"Are you mad, girl?" hissed Norrington. "Do you realize what sort of trouble you'll get into if he notices these gone?"  
  
"He won't," said Antonia confidently. "It's his watch at the helm. I'll have them back before he notices." She looked at him apologetically. "I can't let you out of course."  
  
Norrington shrugged. "Since we're at sea, it scarcely matters if you did."  
  
Antonia set down the basket and got out clean rags and jars of ointment, and proceeded to doctor his hurts as best she could. "Take off your shirt, please," she ordered.  
  
Norrington looked affronted. "Miss de Salazar, I hardly think it appropriate for you."  
  
"Spare me your concern for my maidenly modesty," she said dryly, "and take off your shirt so I can bind your ribs." When he still made no move to do so, she shrugged. "Very well then," and began unbuttoning his waistcoat herself. Norrington pushed her hands away and began unbuttoning it himself, hoping that he wasn't blushing. Antonia merely sat back on her heels and watched as he stripped off the waistcoat and shirt. Running her fingers along his ribs she prodded them here and there. "Tell me when it hurts," she murmured. After a moment she nodded. "You were correct, one or two are cracked, but that is all." Taking a roll of cloth from the basket she wrapped it around him tightly enough to support the injured ribs. "I have a draught here that will help with the pain," she said as she finished binding. "I wish I was able to offer you a more comfortable bed, but I don't dare bring anything here that they could see. As it is, keep the bindings hidden beneath your clothing so they aren't visible." Antonia helped him back into his shirt and waistcoat.  
  
"Why are you doing this?" asked Norrington curiously. "Shouldn't you rejoice in the downfall of an enemy?"  
  
Antonia handed him the cup with the draught and watched him drink it. "Enemy? Who is my enemy? You? You have always treated me with courtesy."  
  
Norrington drained the cup and handed it back to her. "I am English. That makes me an enemy of the Spanish."  
  
Antonia put the cup back into the basket. "My father, my real father that is, was English."  
  
Norrington stared in surprise. "I thought your father was Don Bartolome de Salazar?"  
  
Antonia smiled bitterly. "My mother eloped with an Englishman. Her father and brothers followed, killed him and brought her back. She was forced to wed Don Bartolome six weeks later," Antonia looked up at him, "already carrying me. In truth I should not call myself Senorita de Salazar. They were married, my real parents, though not for more than a day or so."  
  
Norrington smiled at her. You should go, my dear, before you're discovered in here with me. I would not like to be the cause of you getting in trouble." He took her hand and kissed it. "Thank you, Miss de Salazar."  
  
She smiled, "Since I don't really have a right to that name, perhaps you should call me Antonia."  
  
He kissed her hand again, stroking her fingers and touching the gold ring she wore. "Perhaps I shall." 


	13. Chapter 13

Passage to St. Kitts  
  
Chapter 13  
  
Jack stood at the helm and looked out over the ocean. Seeing Joseph below him on the main deck, Jack called out to him. "Joseph, come up here, please!"  
  
Joseph climbed the stairs. "Yes, Captain?"  
  
Jack looked at him seriously. "I'd like to thank you for coming to Miss Tracy's aid yesterday. Your intervention was most opportune."  
  
Joseph bowed slightly. "No need to thank me, sir. I dislike seeing women mistreated."  
  
"I'm in your debt, however. If there is anything I can ever do for you, I beg you will remember it."  
  
"Thank you, sir, I will." Catching sight of Annamaria toward the stern of the ship, Joseph watched her as she stopped to speak to one of the sailors.  
  
Jack noticed Joseph's gaze and chuckled. "Have an eye for me second mate, eh?"  
  
Joseph looked quickly at Jack, but saw nothing but amused kindness in his eyes. "That I do, sir. Do you find that impertinent?"  
  
"No, lad. She might, though. Annamaria is a law unto herself."  
  
"She's an admirable woman. She told me her story last night."  
  
"Did she?" Now Jack looked surprised. "She rarely tells anyone. I don't think she's told the full tale even to me."  
  
"If she didn't tell me the full tale, I can't imagine what she'd left out. Fair made my blood boil to be truthful."  
  
Jack gave Joseph an appraising look. "Did it now?" He looked forward again. "Well, now I hope you're not planning on hurting the lass. I'd hate to have to kill you."  
  
Joseph smiled. "Would that be with or without the handkerchief, sir?"  
  
--  
  
The Aldonza was anchored at Port-au-Prince for three days. Norrington was expecting to be taken ashore and turned over to the military garrison there, but it did not happen. Antonia did not visit him for the length of time they were in port, either, so Norrington assumed that she had gone ashore.  
  
On the fourth day, he felt the movement of a ship headed back out to sea. Next port of call, Santo Domingo, if what Antonia had told him was accurate. That should take several days. Captain Natalez would no doubt skirt the southern edge of Hispaniola so to avoid coming too close to Tortuga. Toward evening on that fourth day, Antonia came down the stairs with Norrington's dinner. Pulling the keys from the pocket of her gown, she unlocked and entered Norrington's cell.  
  
"Antonia, you must stop doing that," he warned.  
  
"I will not be able to check your injuries from outside the cell," she reminded him, setting down the bowl of stew. My future brother and sister- in-law insisted on staying in town for the last few days. I apologize for not coming sooner to see how you fared. Please remove your shirt."  
  
"No apologies are necessary," he said, stripping off waistcoat and shirt. "You have already been kinder to me than I had any right to expect."  
  
Antonia unwrapped the binding around his ribs and prodded gently. "They are healing, but it will be a while yet." She reached up and touched his lips, looking at the cut there. "This is better."  
  
At that moment, a piercing scream echoed through the small space. Norrington and Antonia whirled to see a middle-aged Spanish woman standing on the steps staring at them in disbelief.  
  
Antonia gasped "Senora." but was cut off by the torrent of angry Spanish that poured from the woman's mouth.  
  
Senora Lucia rushed down the remaining steps, reached into the cell and dragged Antonia out by the arm, and dealt her a stinging slap across the face. "Slut!" she screeched. "Shameless slut!"  
  
Alerted by the scream, several men rushed down the stairs. Seeing the cell open and the man inside only half dressed, they came to the same conclusion the older woman had. Norrington could not understand most of the rapid Spanish, but he knew the word for 'whore', which was being spoken repeatedly by the older woman. When the armed sailors ordered him out of his cell, he paused only to pull his shirt on before following. Once out of the cell, they grabbed his arms and hustled him up on deck.  
  
Her face raw from the blows, Antonia stumbled up the stairs, half dragged by Senora Lucia. When they emerged onto the deck, she saw both Captain Natalez and Senor Tomas Valera approaching, concern in their faces. "Lucia, what on earth is happening?" asked Tomas in alarm.  
  
"I found this pig of a slut in the cell with the English soldier! She was in his arms, and he was only half dressed!"  
  
"No!" cried Antonia. "I was seeing to his injuries!"  
  
"Be quiet you viper!" snapped Tomas. "How could you so dishonor my brother as to sneak into the arms of a criminal, an enemy of Spain?"  
  
Captain Natalez spoke sharply. "How is it that the cell is unlocked?"  
  
Lucia saw the bulge in the pocket of Antonia's skirt and pounced. "Ha!" she cried. "The wretched girl stole the keys!"  
  
"We must not allow Rodrigo to marry such a treacherous whore!" stated Tomas firmly. "For surely she would shame him within a fortnight!"  
  
"What of the English dog she crept in to meet?" demanded Lucia. "What of him?"  
  
Captain Natalez studied Norrington. "Commodore," he said in English. "You stand accused of dishonoring Senorita de Salazar."  
  
Norrington stood at attention. "I did not," he stated firmly. Miss de Salazar was kind enough to see to the injuries I received at the hands of your man. I have not touched her in any dishonorable way."  
  
The Captain regarded him. "Oddly enough, Commodore, I believe you. However, it does remain that the girl stole my keys and crept in to meet a man in secret." Switching to Spanish he reported Norrington's protestation of innocence to Tomas and Lucia.  
  
"Hmmph," snorted Lucia. "He may say he did not touch her, but I saw her in his arms. Stupid slut!"  
  
Captain Natalez shrugged. "She can be locked in her cabin for the remainder of the voyage."  
  
"No," stated Lucia. "Let her stay in prison with her lover." 


	14. Chapter 14

Passage to St. Kitts  
  
Chapter 14  
  
The pain was agonizing, but Antonia forced her eyes open. She lay on a straw covered floor. Out of the corner of her eye she saw iron bars. Memory returned, and with it the realization that she was in the cell opposite Norrington, in the hold of the Aldonza. She recalled being dragged back down to the brig and flung into this cell. Senor Tomas, not satisfied with this punishment, and removed his belt and used it to beat her. She could not remember him stopping, so she must have fainted. Moving as carefully as possible, so as to not jar her back more than necessary, she pushed herself into a sitting position and leaned, exhausted, against the bars.  
  
"Antonia?" came a low, anxious voice. Raising her eyes, she saw Norrington standing up against the bars of his cell.  
  
"How long was I unconscious?" she asked.  
  
"A good hour," he replied. "Are you all right?" The past hour was one of the worst he could ever remember having passed. He'd been ushered back into his cell and locked in, unable to do more than watch as Tomas had beaten Antonia into unconsciousness.  
  
"How bad is it?" she asked turning slightly so that he could see her back.  
  
It was bad enough. The fabric of her dress was tattered and bloodstained. Where he could see her skin, it was covered with welts. "You'll hurt for several days, my dear," he said. "There should be no lasting damage or scarring, however. A belt is kinder than a cat-o-nine-tails"  
  
Antonia smiled wearily. "What did they do to you?"  
  
"Nothing yet," he said. "The Captain said he believed me when I told him I'd not dishonored you."  
  
She gave a mirthless little laugh. "Senora Lucia did not, however."  
  
"No," he agreed. "She did not."  
  
"Well," she said, " I don't think I need worry about marrying Rodrigo Valera."  
  
"What will become of you?" he asked.  
  
"I don't know," she replied. "My father will no doubt see this as proof that I am no better than my mother. He will consider himself justified in turning me out of the house, I suppose."  
  
"Do you have friends or relatives you can go to?"  
  
"Not in Portobello. Or in Santo Domingo for that matter. It's possible they will abandon me there on the docks. It depends on whether or not Captain Natalez thinks my father would pay for my return passage."  
  
"Would he?"  
  
"For a disgraced daughter? No. Especially as he knows I am not really his daughter."  
  
"Antonia," he said pacing around his small cell. "I can't tell you how sorry I am. I should never have allowed you to.."  
  
"James, it was not your fault. It was mine. Do not blame yourself."  
  
"I can't stand the thought of you being abandoned in a strange town with nowhere to go."  
  
"It may not come to that. It was my foolishness that caused this mess. Senor Valera may very well insist on your being hanged. If anyone should be sorry, it is I."  
  
--  
  
Jack breathed a sigh of relief as the Black Pearl slipped out of harbor and back into the open sea. Getting rid of the twenty-four British soldiers was worth every delay that stopping at St. Thomas caused. He'd had a hard time ridding himself of Gillette, who tried to insist that he come along on the search for the Aldonza, but Jack had managed it. He'd made a half- hearted attempt to leave the Turners on St. Thomas as well, but abandoned the effort when he saw it wouldn't work. Now where in bloody blazes would he look for the Aldonza? The Defender had been traveling south toward Barbados when they'd come across her. The Spaniard had been heading north at the time. Coming from Panama, perhaps? Would she have been heading for Cuba or Hispaniola? If she intended to dock in Havana, Jack knew he couldn't catch her. However if she was headed for Santo Domingo there was a possibility that he could. Checking one of his two compasses (the one that pointed north), he adjusted course to head for Santo Domingo.  
  
--  
  
Annamaria lay on her bunk, resting before her next watch. Her mind, however, refused to cooperate. It whirled and spun in several directions. What was she going to do about Joseph? Should she do anything? All she needed to do was avoid being alone with him until the dropped the Turners back off in Port Royal. Of course, that could take as long as a couple of months, depending on how long it took to find the blasted Spaniard they were searching for. She could explain to him that she had no intention of becoming involved with him, thank you very much. She didn't think he'd press it; he'd been very gentlemanly thus far. She shifted irritably on the bunk. Yes, he'd been very gentlemanly. Too gentlemanly. She wasn't used to it, it was disconcerting. Most of the men she'd encountered since becoming a pirate were crude and direct. Even the ones interested in more than just a quick tumble weren't interested in subtle seduction. They knew what they wanted, and they wanted to get right to it. Turning them down was easy. And if they didn't take 'no' for an answer, a sword point in the throat, or lower, took care of it.  
  
Swinging her legs over the side of the bunk, she took out her small mirror and looked into it. Joseph had made her feel.. feminine. When was the last time she'd felt that? When was the last time she'd looked into a mirror and been pleased by the reflection? When she was thirteen? Back before she'd known the cost of being pretty? She'd paid a high cost for her looks, that was certain. As she stared at the reflection of her face a novel thought occurred to her. Could it be, that she'd already paid in full? That there was no more cost to bear? She would have to consider that.  
  
--  
  
"Sails ahead to starboard!" came the call from the watchman. Gibbs was at the helm and trained the telescope at the ship approaching them. "She looks like a Spaniard," he said. "You!" he ordered a seaman. "Go ask the Captain to step up here."  
  
Jack was up on the quarterdeck in moments, peering through the telescope. "She's Spanish all right. Can't tell yet if she's the Aldonza." He turned toward the main deck. "Ready the guns! Even if she's not the Aldonza, we'll take her anyway." He left Gibbs at the helm and descended to the main deck, shouting out orders to the men.  
  
--  
  
Captain Natalez saw the ship with black sails approaching on his port side. Unlike Jack, he knew exactly who he was looking at. Very few ships had black sails and the shape of the one ahead of him proclaimed her name clearly enough. "It's the Black Pearl," he spat. "Turn to port and put up all remaining canvas!" he roared. "Run out the guns!"  
  
Tomas Valera approached tentatively. "A pirate ship? Should we not run?"  
  
"We can't outrun the Pearl," snarled Natalez. "We'll have to fight."  
  
--  
  
The first that Antonia and Norrington knew of the approaching battle was the crash of cannon fire. "Dear lord," breathed Antonia. "We're fighting someone."  
  
Norrington nodded. "That sounded like a single shot that didn't hit anything. Probably a preliminary shot across the bow. It's probably a pirate, or possibly an English, Dutch or French privateer." He looked at Antonia. "Without being able to see it, I have no way of knowing which ship is stronger, but if the pirate is signaling the Aldonza to stop, then the pirate at least believes that he is."  
  
"What will happen to us if the pirate is stronger?" asked Antonia, her face becoming pale.  
  
Norrington didn't answer. The possibilities could be bleak. He himself might be better off captured by pirates or foreign privateers. They would likely ransom him back to Port Royal. It would be embarrassing, and possibly career damaging to have to be ransomed, but he would not likely be harmed. Antonia was another question. Two days in the brig had taken their toll on her; she was as dirty and disheveled as any wench found on the docks of any port city might be. Her tattered dress and the half healed welts on her back would not convince any pirate that she was worth ransoming. Her youth and beauty would probably save her life, but she would undoubtedly be used in the basest of ways. Their best hope would be if the approaching ship were an English privateer. He might have some influence in that case and would be able to protect her. Closing his eyes, James Norrington prayed. 


	15. Chapter 15

Passage to St. Kitts  
  
Chapter 15  
  
Will had managed to convince Elizabeth to stay below with Gwen until the battle was over, but it had taken some doing. Two of the Pearl's crewmen were stationed by the door of the Captain's cabin with orders to defend the women at all costs. The crewmen knew that if the women were injured, killed or captured, it would be over their own dead bodies. If the Spanish didn't kill them, they'd be killed by their own Captain.  
  
The Pearl shuddered as her cannons fired. Jack was at the helm now, with Gibbs and Will hovering anxiously nearby. The distance was closing rapidly. Even without the telescope it was possible to see the word 'Aldonza' blazoned on the Spaniard's side. Each ship had taken some damage from the cannon fire, but as yet neither was incapacitated. "Aim the cannon higher," bellowed Jack. "Take out the rigging. Chain shot!" The next time the guns fired, the chain shot ripped through the sails and the rigging. None of the masts fell, but the sails were rendered useless. "Gibbs, take the helm and get us alongside!" Jack commanded, hurrying down the stairs to the main deck, followed closely by Will. "Don't fire again!" Jack shouted. "We don't want to sink her! Prepare to board!" Amid pistol and rifle fire, the Pearl crewmembers took up grappling hooks, and pulled the two ships together. They swarmed over the rail, swords and pistols ready.  
  
Jack and Will were two of the first over the rail, shoulder to shoulder. The Spanish sailors were decent swordsmen, but they were no match for either the practiced art of Will's fencing, or the erratic brilliance of Jack's blade. The group surrounding these two shortly consisted of disarmed men who had cried quarter, and those still bodies of the sailors who hadn't. Annamaria found Joseph at her elbow as she fought her way from the rail to the mainmast. He had never before fought in earnest, but the lessons he'd had from Will had not been in vain. Joseph would not have been a match for an expert, but he was able to hold his own with the rank sailors. Annamaria, with her years of experience was the better swordsman, and her practiced eye picked out the best of each group they encountered, leaving Joseph to deal with the others.  
  
Finding a clear path to the quarterdeck, Jack sprinted forward, slashing occasionally with his sword as he went. Natalez saw him coming, and drew his pistol, but the shot went wide. Jack's sword point was soon at the Spanish Captain's throat. "Cry quarter." Jack suggested with a grin, "and order your men to surrender."  
  
Natalez hesitated for a moment, but then snarled "Quarter." Jack lowered his sword slightly, and Natalez turned to bellow orders for his men to drop their weapons. "Thank you, Captain!" Jack said cheerfully. "Annamaria!" he shouted, "Round up all hands, and check the brig! I want all captives alive!" He turned back to Natalez. "I hope for your sake, Captain, that Commodore Norrington is still aboard your ship and in good health."  
  
--  
  
Norrington and Antonia listened tensely to the battle above them. They could hear shouting, but aside from the Spanish spoken by the crew of the Aldonza, they were unable to determine what language the attackers were using.  
  
A loud shout was heard, and the sounds of the battle began to die. "Captain Natalez just ordered his men to surrender," Antonia translated. "The pirates, or whoever, must have defeated them."  
  
Norrington leaned as far forward as he could. "We'll know who they are momentarily."  
  
Not more than ten minutes later, footsteps pounded on the stairs and two figures appeared. "Annamaria!" gasped Norrington. "Thank God it's you!"  
  
Annamaria stopped so abruptly that Joseph nearly ran into her. Could this disheveled dark haired man with two weeks worth of beard be the elegant James Norrington? "Good Lord, Commodore, I scarcely recognized you! I don't believe I've ever seen you without your wig, much less a beard." She lifted the keys she'd taken from the Captain's cabin and unlocked the door.  
  
Norrington shoved the door open and indicated the other cell. "The lady is with me, Miss Simone. If you'd be so kind?"  
  
Annamaria obligingly unlocked Antonia's cell as well. "As far as that, you can take it up with Captain Sparrow. He'll want a ransom for her, you know."  
  
"I'll pay it if necessary," Norrington replied. Taking Antonia's hand, he led her up the stairs and onto the main deck.  
  
The Spanish sailors had been herded into a group at one end of the main deck, guarded by several of the Pearl's crew. Natalez, disarmed, was standing between two other crewmen. Will and Cotton were guarding Tomas and Lucia Valera. "Commodore!" called Jack as Norrington and Antonia appeared on deck. "I'm devilish glad to see you. Gillette yammered my ear off until I agreed to search for you. Though I must say, "he continued, looking Norrington up and down, "I've never seen you so bedraggled."  
  
"I'm so pleased to see you, Sparrow, that I'm going to ignore that comment," replied Norrington, his cool manner perfectly in place. "You said you'd seen Gillette?"  
  
"Aye," said Jack. "Picked up two boatloads of the Defender's crew and dropped them off in St. Thomas." He eyed Antonia appreciatively. "Pray introduce me to the lady."  
  
"Of course. Captain Jack Sparrow, please allow me to introduce Miss Antonia de Salazar. Miss de Salazar is under my protection, Sparrow."  
  
Jack made an elaborate bow and kissed Antonia's hand. "Charmed to meet you, Miss de Salazar."  
  
Lucia Valera could stand it no more. "She is nothing but a worthless slut!" she burst out.  
  
Jack straightened with an affronted look. "What?"  
  
Norrington's cool gaze became flinty as he looked at the older woman. "Senora, I advise you to keep your tongue in your head."  
  
Tomas started forward, stopped only by Will's hand clamping on his shoulder. "What right do you have to speak so to my wife?"  
  
Norrington turned to Jack and bowed slightly. "Captain Sparrow, I crave your indulgence for a moment." Walking deliberately toward Tomas, he raised his fist and struck the man solidly in the mouth. "I demand satisfaction for your brutal treatment of Miss de Salazar."  
  
The watching privateers gaped in amazement. Will recovered first. "I see you are not wearing your sword, sir," he said with a slight bow, drawing his own weapon. "If you would like to borrow mine, you will find the balance to be very similar."  
  
"Thank you, Mr. Turner, I accept your offer." Norrington hefted the blade. "What say you, Valera? Are you man enough to meet me, or do you reserve your violence for young girls only?"  
  
"Give me a sword!" rasped Tomas. Cotton picked up one of the discarded Spanish weapons and handed it, hilt first to the man.  
  
Will picked up another discarded weapon and held it between the combatants. "Everyone, step back!" he ordered. "Gentlemen, are you ready?" Receiving two nods, he said, "Begin then," and stepped back himself.  
  
Annamaria took Antonia's arm and drew her back out of the way. "He has two cracked ribs!" whispered Antonia anxiously.  
  
"He'll be all right," Annamaria said, hoping it was true. "Is that man the one who did this to your back?"  
  
"Yes," she answered.  
  
Annamaria shot a knowing look at Joseph. He too recognized the signs of a brutal beating, and he slipped unobtrusively over to whisper to Jack. Jack's eyes widened and he glanced at Antonia's back as well. Then his eyes narrowed again, turning nearly as flinty as Norrington's. "Bloody hell," he whispered back, "Nothing I hate more than a man who beats up on defenseless women." Raising his voice he called, "Feel free to kill him, Norrington! Some men aren't worth ransoming!"  
  
Indeed it seemed as though that was Norrington's plan. His swordplay was neat, precise and extremely competent. Tomas was forced back step-by-step until he was nearly against the rail. With a vicious slash, Norrington cut Tomas's arm to the bone, and his sword clattered to the deck. For a long moment, Norrington stood poised, his sword at Tomas's throat. Then he flicked the point twice, drawing two vertical lines in the man's right cheek, disengaged and strode away.  
  
Will threw his hands up in disgust. "Is everyone going to start marking their opponents now?"  
  
Norrington carefully wiped Will's blade on a piece of cloth, then slid the sword back into it's scabbard and handed it to the exasperated blacksmith. "Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, Turner." Walking over to Antonia, he bowed and offered his hand. "Allow me to escort you over to the Black Pearl, Miss de Salazar."  
  
Jack rolled his eyes. 


	16. Chapter 16

Passage to St. Kitts  
  
Chapter 16  
  
Will went down to his cabin aboard the Pearl to clean up. Blood stained his hands and was splashed on his clothes. He poured some water into a basin and began to wash. Two years ago, when he'd first met Jack Sparrow, he'd have been appalled at his own actions today. He'd participated in the sacking of a Spanish ship. He'd killed several men. In truth, he wasn't exactly sure how many he had killed. In the heat of battle, he hadn't counted. Hands clean, he stripped off his stained garments and got out a clean shirt and breeches. While he dressed he tried to assess his reactions. He hadn't killed anyone who had surrendered, after all. Gibbs had carefully taught him several Spanish phrases, such as "Cry quarter", "surrender" and "drop your sword". He'd been shouting them over and over again throughout the whole battle. Jack, who had been fighting at his shoulder, had done the same thing. Unlike Captain LeSerre who had held Will prisoner last year, these men had done nothing to injure or insult him personally. However, as with Captain LeSerre, Will found that he felt no remorse over killing these men. They themselves would have killed him without the slightest hesitation. To be honest, he felt exhilarated. The battle was over, the contest won. Was this one of the reasons men became pirates? The thrill of victory?  
  
Will drew his sword from his scabbard and checked the edge. It was a new sword. The first one he'd made for himself was lost when the Banshee had sunk a year ago. There were a few nicks, nothing serious. He would have to hone the edge again. Compared to the blades he'd made for Jack and Annamaria, this sword was very plain. He hadn't bothered with gold filigree or jewels for his personal weapon. However, like all his swords, this one was beautifully made and perfectly balanced. Perhaps now that he was making custom blades for sale, he should make himself a fancier one. It would be good business to have an example of an elaborate weapon to show to prospective customers. Will shook his head and sheathed the sword. Two minutes ago he'd been thinking about the exciting life of a privateer. Now he was designing swords in his head. Which was the greater part of him, the pirate or the blacksmith?  
  
--  
  
Much later, the Pearl hoisted sails and headed for St. Thomas. The guns aboard the Aldonza had been disabled, and everything of value had been taken and brought aboard the Pearl. After determining that the Spanish sailors were able to jury rig the ship enough to sail, albeit very slowly, they cut loose and left the Aldonza to make her way to the nearest Spanish port.  
  
Gwen had patched up Tomas Valera, and he and his wife were locked in a cabin about the Pearl. Gwen had also seen to Norrington's ribs, and pronounced them healing well.  
  
Lying on her stomach on the bunk, Antonia sighed in relief as Gwen smoothed a soothing cream on the welts from the beating she'd endured. Elizabeth sat on the edge of the bunk. "Too bad you weren't wearing a corset," she said. "That would have protected you fairly well."  
  
Antonia smiled. "I know. I never thought I'd want one aboard ship, however."  
  
Elizabeth laughed, and moved to open Antonia's trunk, which had been retrieved from the Aldonza. "Tell me where to find a nightdress in here."  
  
Antonia raised herself on one elbow and gestured with the other hand, the candlelight glinting off her ring. "They should be on the left side, underneath that red dress."  
  
Elizabeth, however, had caught sight the ring. Reaching out she took Antonia's hand and studied it, running her fingers over the gold swan. "Where did you get this ring?" she inquired, her voice tight.  
  
Antonia's brows knit in puzzlement. "It was my mother's. It was given to her by my real father."  
  
"What was his name?" she asked urgently?  
  
"Roland Swann, why do you ask?"  
  
Elizabeth released Antonia's hand and sank down on the edge of the bunk again. "Roland Swann?"  
  
"Yes. If you'd hand me those papers, I'll show you."  
  
Elizabeth picked up the folded packet and passed it to Antonia, who opened them and handed Elizabeth the marriage lines. Antonia looked in bewilderment at Gwen, who looked as though she was about to start laughing.  
  
"Antonia," Elizabeth said, setting down the document. "My maiden name is Swann. My father is Weatherby Swann, the Governor of Jamaica. He had a younger brother named Roland, who died approximately twenty-one years ago."  
  
Antonia sat bolt upright. "Does that mean.?"  
  
Elizabeth smiled. "Well met, cousin."  
  
--  
  
The sky was deep blue velvet, scattered with stars that gleamed much brighter than diamonds ever could. It was Annamaria's watch, and she was enjoying the solitude. Absently her fingers played over the helm. The scene she'd left an hour ago in the Captain's cabin had been too much for her composure. They'd had a celebratory dinner (with supplies stolen from the Aldonza, of course) for the ship's officers and passengers. The food wasn't the problem, it was the company. The room wasn't really large enough for the number of people in it, and they'd been squeezed rather tightly at the table. Will and Elizabeth had taken advantage of the opportunity to practically sit in each other's pockets, and exchange far too many intimate glances. Gwen, as usual, showed more decorum, but the affection between her and Jack was only too obvious. And Norrington! Annamaria would not have believed he was capable of making sheep's eyes at anyone, but that Spanish girl seemed to have captured his heart. Annamaria doubted Norrington had been this demonstrative when he'd been courting Elizabeth Swann, but you never knew. Antonia seemed nice enough. Funny that she'd turned out to be Elizabeth's cousin. Wonder what Governor Swann would make of that!  
  
Annamaria gazed out at the dark ocean, idly noting the glimmer of the moon's refection on the water, her mind absently turning over the impressions of the evening. Why was it that every time that Will caressed Elizabeth's hand her heart gave a little lurch? Why did she feel empty when Norrington smiled into Antonia's eyes? Even Jack and Gwen. Why on earth would she be envious of Jack and Gwen? She gave herself a mental shake. Envious? Why did that word come to her mind? Was she really envious of the love they had for each other? Yes, she realized dully. She was. She didn't want Will or Norrington, or even Jack. But it would be nice, she thought, to have a man who cared for her. One who wanted to touch her with affection, not just with lust.  
  
A dark shadow moved onto the main deck, and started up the stairs to the quarterdeck. "Who's there?" she said sharply.  
  
"Joseph," came the reply. Moments later the he emerged from the shadows into the light of the small lantern on the quarterdeck. "A beautiful night, is it not?"  
  
"Yes, very," she agreed.  
  
Instead of standing beside her, he moved behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. Instinctively she tensed at his touch, but the large warm hands merely began to massage the tight muscles until she relaxed again. "How long until we reach St. Thomas?" he asked quietly.  
  
"Mmmmm. Late tomorrow if the wind holds." Joseph's fingers continued to massage her shoulders and neck, smoothing, caressing. Annamaria enjoyed the sensation. She also enjoyed the feeling that this man did care for her. Is this what she wanted? Was he what she wanted? Joseph wrapped his arms around her and gently pulled her against him, resting his cheek on her hair. "I'm trying to steer this ship," she protested.  
  
"Am I hindering you?"  
  
"No, I suppose not," she answered.  
  
"How long until your watch is over?" he asked.  
  
"Two more hours," she replied. Another shadow appeared on the main deck, and began climbing the steps to the quarterdeck. "Who's there," she asked again, as Joseph released her and stepped back.  
  
In answer a raucous voice called "A pirate's life for me!" as Cotton appeared on the quarterdeck, his parrot flapping on his shoulder.  
  
"Cotton!" exclaimed Annamaria in surprise. "You're early!" He merely smiled and motioned her away from the helm. "But, it isn't your watch yet.."  
  
Joseph's teeth flashed white in the lantern light as he took her hand and pulled her toward the stairs. "Come, Anna," he said. "Good night, Cotton!"  
  
"She's a bonny lass, she is!" called the parrot after them. 


	17. Chapter 17

Passage to St. Kitts  
  
Chapter 17  
  
Jack sat on the deck near the bow of the ship, enjoying the feel of the breeze and the salt spray on his face. It was a beautiful night. A voice called softly in the dark. "Jack, are you out here?"  
  
"I'm here, luv," he said. Gwen appeared out of the shadows, and gathering her skirts, sat down beside him. He draped an arm over her shoulders, and pulled her against his side. "Did you notice that Cotton is on his watch a touch early?"  
  
"I did," said Gwen dryly. "And since I passed Annamaria's cabin on the way back from checking on Tomas Valera's wound, I can figure out why."  
  
"Didn't press your ear to the door, did ye luv? That would be an invasion of privacy, that would." He grinned, waiting for the elbow shot in the ribs. He wasn't disappointed. "Ah, well. 'Tis a night for love. I daresay Norrington and his pretty Spanish girl are mooning over each other as I speak."  
  
"I daresay they are," Gwen answered.  
  
"Ah, with this wind I feel free as a bird. Not a care in the world." He closed his eyes to better enjoy the kiss of the wind.  
  
"Jack," she began. "Do I tie you down?"  
  
His eyes snapped back open. "What do you mean, Gwen?"  
  
"Do you sometimes wish I hadn't come with you, that you were as free to do what you wished without concerning yourself with me?"  
  
"Sometimes," he said slowly, "I feel a yen to spend time in port drinking and gambling, the way I used to. Sometimes I see a pretty maid in a tavern, and wish I was free to do more than look, but I daresay no more so than most men who find themselves married or as good as. Passing fancies. They aren't worth much really." He turned to her, wishing he could read her expression in the dark. "What about you? Does respectable Gwendolyn Tracy wish she'd never run off with a pirate?"  
  
"Not when I'm with you. When I'm in town, and some virtuous matron draws her skirts aside and looks at me like I was no better than the prostitutes that haunt the docks, or when some man like Carey assumes that since I'd give myself to you without marriage that I'd do so with anyone; yes that bothers me. But, it comes down to the fact that I love you, Jack Sparrow. I'll take what you can give me and count myself blessed."  
  
"I've been in love with the sea my whole life," Jack said. "And with the Black Pearl since I first set foot on her many, many years ago. She's a demanding mistress and hasn't left room in me heart for anyone else for the longest time. I wondered some when you first took sail with me, if it could work. If I could split myself between the two of you. Turns out, I needn't have worried. I still have the Pearl, the horizon and the sea. And I have you too. I do love you, Gwen."  
  
Gwen swallowed hard. "That's the first time you've said it."  
  
"Aye, it is. It's the first time I'll ever be saying this too. Will ye marry me?"  
  
Gwen started. "Do you really mean that?"  
  
His gold teeth flashed in the moonlight as he grinned at her. "You aren't going to make me take a knee and get all formal are you? The last time I knelt at your feet you called me an idiot and told me to get up."  
  
"Jack, I don't want to push you into anything you aren't ready for."  
  
"This will make it legal, and it will protect you from those sanctimonious fools who think the less of you for being my mistress."  
  
"Jack, that isn't reason enough."  
  
"No, it isn't. But this is. I meant what I said before - about you belonging to me. You're mine as much as the Black Pearl is. I'd kill anyone who tried to take either from me. I love her, and I love you. I need you to stay with me, darling. Always."  
  
"All right, I accept." Gwen leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. He gathered her close to him, and she relaxed against his side. A moment later, however, she raised her head and looked into his face. "What are you doing?"  
  
Jack grinned, his hand sliding further beneath her skirts, stroking the length of her leg. "You've been living with me for a year now and you haven't figured it out yet? Luv, I'm amazed at you."  
  
"Here?"  
  
"Why not?" he said cajolingly, "It's perfect. The sea, the stars, the breeze, a loving woman - what more can a man ask for?"  
  
"We're on deck! Anyone could see us!"  
  
"It's near pitch black, luv, and we're in the shadows. No one will notice, so long as we're quiet."  
  
"You're an idiot, Jack!"  
  
"There you go, calling me names again. I'm a henpecked husband, I am. Still, I notice, luv, you didn't say 'no'." 


	18. Chapter 18

Passage to St. Kitts  
  
**Author's Note** This is the final chapter of this one, mostly tying up loose ends. My romantic soul keeps trying to pair everyone off! There's always trouble in paradise, however, which is a tale for the next sequel, which will probably be complete enough to start posting in a few weeks. Many thanks to Eledhwen, Erin, Anaknusan, Mia Sanders, Yessina, Poppy Brook and Whosegotyou. I very much appreciate the comments!  
  
Chapter 18  
  
Will and Elizabeth stood on the main deck, looking out over the dark sea. "I've been thinking about our life together," Will said. "I've come to some conclusions."  
  
"That sounds serious," said Elizabeth.  
  
"Since we've been on this ship, I've been more relaxed and happy than I've been in a long time. I don't want to go back to the way we've been before."  
  
"What do you mean?" she asked, apprehensively.  
  
"It's time for us to move out of the Governor's house. I can't live there anymore, Elizabeth. As much as I respect your father, I can't live with him. I can't breathe surrounded by butlers, servants and all the trappings of 'proper behavior'. There's too much of my father in me. I need freedom."  
  
"You don't want to sign on as a crewmember of the Pearl, do you?"  
  
"Not permanently. I still want to be a blacksmith. I still want to make swords. I though perhaps I'd sign on for two or three voyages a year, and spend the rest of the time making swords. I'll take on an apprentice to learn the business and do the basic work, and to keep the shop open when I'm gone." He looked at Elizabeth. Unlike the elaborate gowns she wore in Port Royal, aboard ship she wore a simple linen dress without a corset. She hadn't bothered with a hat for days, and her thick dark blond hair had acquired new golden highlights in the tropical sun. She looked utterly unlike the cool, proper lady she was in Jamaica. He went on. "Jack is going to give me a crew's share in the loot taken from the Aldonza. Between that, perhaps another ship or two before we return to Port Royal, and whatever I can charge the men in St. Kitts for the custom swords, I'm hoping we can afford our own house."  
  
"It looks like you have it all planned," Elizabeth said. "Will, I know you've been unhappy living at Father's house. I was wondering what to do about it long before we set out for St. Kitts. This life you've described, will that make you happy?"  
  
"I think so. It's a good compromise. Will it make you happy?"  
  
"Will, if all I wanted was wealth and position, I'd have married Norrington or one of the other aristocrats of Jamaica. I want you. I want to be with you." She continued. "If we're compromising then, I'd like to use my own money to furnish the house and to hire one or two servants."  
  
"Elizabeth," he began, but she cut him off.  
  
"It's my money, Will, and I want to use it for our home. Buy the house with money you'll earn on this voyage, and let me use mine to make it the home we want. Besides," she continued dryly, "I never learned to cook."  
  
"No butlers," Will said firmly.  
  
"No butlers," she agreed. Smiling, she ran her hand down his neck. "So, you really will be a pirate!"  
  
"A privateer," he corrected with a smile, bending his head to kiss her.  
  
--  
  
The next day dawned bright and sunny. The wind held and the Pearl slipped effortlessly through the waves toward St. Thomas. Joseph found Will at the bow. "Good morning, sir." he said, coming up beside him on the rail.  
  
"Good morning," Will replied.  
  
"Sir," began Joseph, "You told me a while back that when I found the place I wanted to be, I was to let you know. I'm letting you know."  
  
Will looked at him. "You want to be a sailor, then?"  
  
"I want to be here," he said simply. "The sea, the sun, the stars, and.. the company."  
  
Will raised his eyebrow. "I knew you were sweet on Annamaria, Joseph. What does she say?"  
  
A small smile appeared on Joseph's face. "I have reason to believe she'd be pleased if I remained aboard the Black Pearl."  
  
Will was slightly shocked at that little smile. He saw a similar one often in his shaving mirror after a night spent in Elizabeth's arms. But Annamaria? He shook his head slightly. The thought of her voluntarily involved with a man would take some getting used to. "Have you spoken to the Captain yet?"  
  
Joseph shook his head. "I wanted to talk to you first. No sense in signing on as crew if I wasn't free to do so."  
  
"Well, I'm sure there's some sort of legality to deal with. I imagine I'll have to write some sort of document and have it witnessed. I'll talk to a magistrate when we make port. But as of now, Joseph, consider yourself a free man." Will smiled.  
  
--  
  
Jack stood at the helm and looked toward shore. St. Thomas was still just a smudge on the horizon, but it would grow larger before long. He'd had an interesting conversation a little while ago with Joseph, and came out of it with a new crewmember. That man was a find. Still fairly green as a sailor, true, but he was learning rapidly. He wasn't particularly skilled at climbing the rigging, but jobs that required strength and power might have been made for him. He was a decent swordsman considering that he was essentially still a beginner. He was honest and honorable, polite and easy to get along with. The rest of the Pearl's crew seemed to like him a good deal. Jack shook his head. The man had been surprised when he'd learned that he was due a crew's share of the loot from the Aldonza, and nearly speechless when he'd found out how much that was. And Annamaria. The girl was glowing today. If nothing else, it was worth having Joseph aboard if he could keep Annamaria in that kind of a mood.  
  
"Captain Sparrow," said a voice nearby. Jack blinked and looked around. Commodore Norrington ascended to the quarterdeck. It was still odd to see the Commodore out of uniform, but at least he was shaved and decently dressed. Captain Natalez had been of similar size and build, so Norrington had helped himself to some of the Captain's clothes. The black breeches and gray coat suited Norrington well enough. Natalez hadn't worn a wig, however, so Norrington's own dark hair showed beneath the plain black tricorn hat. "I've been meaning to speak with you about a ransom for Miss de Salazar."  
  
"Aye," replied Jack. "Annamaria said you'd take care of it?"  
  
"Yes, if you'll tell me the amount."  
  
"Sure I shouldn't ask it of Governor Swann? Seeing as how she's his niece and all."  
  
"Since he doesn't as yet know of her existence, I don't think asking him for money would be suitable."  
  
Jack shrugged. "Suit yourself," and named an amount.  
  
Norrington nodded. "Reasonable enough. May I pay you when you next come into Port Royal? "  
  
Jack sighed. "I suppose. You'll be staying in St. Thomas then?"  
  
"My plans are uncertain; I'll need to speak to Gillette if he's still there. If not, I'll take passage on the next ship back to Jamaica."  
  
"Oh, by the way, mate. I consider that rescuing the noble crew of the Defender will be the Crown's share of this voyage."  
  
Norrington glared at Jack. "Somehow I'm not surprised."  
  
--  
  
They stayed in St. Thomas for five days. Commodore Norrington came to see them off. Both Antonia and Elizabeth had written to Governor Swann, and Norrington promised to deliver the letters as soon as he was able. After he'd taken leave of everyone aboard the Pearl, Antonia walked with him toward the boat that was waiting to take him back to shore. "Thank you, James, for everything you've done for me," she said as they stopped by the rail.  
  
"I don't know when I'll see you again, Antonia," he replied. "But I will be waiting for you in Port Royal."  
  
"Farewell then, Commodore," she said, holding out her hand.  
  
Norrington took her hand and kissed it. "Farewell, Miss de Salazar."  
  
"Swann," she said. "If you are sure that Governor Swann will recognize me as his niece, then from now on I will be 'Miss Swann'."  
  
"From now on?" He repeated. "It is my hope, Miss Swann, that you will be willing to change your name again, someday." He leaned forward and kissed her gently on the lips. "Do not forget me."  
  
"You needn't fear that," she replied. "I could not forget you." She stayed by the rail and watched him row away.  
  
--  
  
Gwen sat on the deck near the bow where she and Jack had made love the night he'd proposed. She looked down at her hands in her lap, and once again admired the ring on her left hand. The gold band was set with a black pearl surrounded by small diamonds. It had only been on her finger for two days and she'd yet to be used to it. She closed her eyes and breathed in the salty scent of the sea. "Mrs. Sparrow?" said a familiar voice close by. She opened her eyes to see her husband standing before her. Her 'husband'. That would take a LOT of getting used to.  
  
"Is your watch over already?" She asked. "I've lost track of time."  
  
"Aye," he said sitting down beside her. "Next stop, St. Kitts." He put his arm around her shoulders. "Too bad it's broad daylight out here."  
  
"Jack, you're impossible."  
  
"No darling, just improbable."  
  
The End. 


End file.
